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The Coming of Chloe 


Mrs.^Hungerford . ^ 

(“The Duchess’O • 

Author of “ A Lonely Maid,” “ Molly Darling,” “ The Hoyden,” •* 

“ Peter’s Wife,” “ A Point of Conscience,’’ etc. 


M 



Philadelphia 

J. B. Lippincott Company 

1897 





Copyright, 1896, 

BY 

J. B. Lippincott Company. 


Electrotypeo and Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, U.8.A. 


I The Coming of Chloe 


CHAPTER I. 


Assemble all ye maidens at the door. 


“ What an extraordinary thing !” 4 

Mrs. Fitzgerald looks up from the letter she has 
been reading, her still young and charming face 
filled with a sort of excited amazement. 

They are at breakfast, she and her two pretty 
girls, and as this little remark — that is almost more 
an exclamation than a remark — breaks from her, 
the girls lift their heads and look at her eagerly, 
expectantly. Any news in this little cast-away 
corner of the universe — this tiny Irish village — 
would be welcomed with open arms ; but news that 

comes under the head of “ extraordinary” 

The four lovely eyes — two blue, two hazel — search 
their mother’s eyes (that are hazel too, like Olivia’s) 
across the tablecloth, a tablecloth very delicately, 
if very sparsely, laid. There ^re on it four little 
bowls full of this sweet May’s roses, and some china 
and silver that is old and quaint and exquisite. There 
is napery that is old too — old and fine to a point ; 
a vanishing point now, I grieve to say — the darns 
in it being many and various, but so beautifully 
5 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


worked that Tom Lloyd, when his cousin Cecily one 
day, with a sigh, indicated them with a slim fore- 
finger, said it was quite a pleasure to look at them. 

Besides the roses, there are only some new-laid 
eggs upon the table, a mere suspicion of jam in a 
little glass dish, some fresh rolls, and a few pats of 
delicious-looking butter. A frugal meal, but a very 
dainty one. Mrs. Fitzgerald has forgotten in her 
excitement to pour out the tea. 

What is it, mama ?” Olivia is the first to speak. 

“ A letter from Maud Gilbert — a cousin of ours, 
you know, on your poor father’s side.” 

The girls nod their heads. 

“ Well ! She says, she Really, it is the most 

unheard-of thing — a little impertinent of Maud, I 
think — ^but she wants me to take in a young lady 

for some months as a — a ” 

Paying guest ?” puts in Olivia quickly. 

“That sounds better, of course” — discontentedly 
— “ but it is in reality only a modern term for that 
most dreadful of all things, a lodger. I need hardly 
say I shall not dream of it — not for a moment! 
She” — glancing at the letter — “says the girl has 
not a near relation in the world, but that there was a 
distant cousinship between her and Mr, Gilbert. He 
died, as you know, some years ago.” 

“ 1 think I saw her once in Dublin,” says Olivia. 

“ Yes — when you were quite a child.” 

“ I thought her horrid !” 

“ Yes ; horrid I Very" — regretfully — “ horrid 1 
But people think a great deal of her. She has 
money, and is a niece of Lord Montober’s, and 

6 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


perhaps might be of use to you girls in the future. 
She says something here about presenting Olivia 
next year. I should not, of course, like to quar- 
rel with her, but” — with immense determination — 
“ nothing would induce me to think of her proposi- 
tion !” 

On this a silence follows. A bee, drowsy with 
sunshine and all the sweets of the old-fashioned, 
garden outside, lumbers heavily into the room 
through the eastern window, and, buzzing across it, 
bangs himself stupidly against the panes of the 
other window. Why he should have come in, when 
his only desire is to go out again, occurs vaguely to 
Cecily as a question difficult of answer — and when, 
too, he had all the heavenly delights outside, 
amongst which he could wander free. Here her 
thoughts lose themselves again in this wonderful 
suggestion of the “ horrid” Mrs. Gilbert. But the 
bee, seeing freedom denied him, turns his attentions 
to her, to find them very badly received. Making 
an impatient gesture towards the buzzing thing, 
she breaks the train of her thoughts, and the silence 
too. 

“ Does Mrs. Gilbert say what she — the — her cousin 
— would ?” 

Cecily breaks down, colouring warmly at her own 
words. 

“ Maud seems uncertain how long she would stay, 
but certainly for six months ; and even if she didn’t 
stay for quite that time she would — pay two hundred 
pounds. The”— nervously— “ payment to be made 
at once ! ” 


7 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


Another pause. 

“Two hundred pounds!” It is Olivia who says 
this, in a very low tone. “ We could get rid of those 
bills, mama.” 

<‘Yes — ^yes, I know” — ^hurriedly — “but to have 
what you call a guest in one’s house, and take money 
from her I Guest ! what an absurd title under the 
circumstances! No, no; let us be honest; lodger 
is the word.” She rises abruptly, as if, indeed, the 
word is too much for her. “ No, I shall not even 
think of it.” 

“ Sit down, and I’ll pour out the tea,” says Olivia, 
pushing her gently into her own seat. The mother 
and the two girls are more like sisters than anything 
else, and the very closest and dearest friends. Cecily 
leans over the table towards her mother. 

“Why not think of it, mama?” says she very 
softly. 

“Are you mad, darling? Think of what your 
poor father would have said ! — what your uncle, Sir 
Hardress, would be sure to say 1” 

“ Oh ! Uncle Hardress !” says Cecily, with a little 
saucy uplifting of one shoulder. Sir Hardress Lloyd 
is not really their uncle, being connected with them 
merely through his marriage with their mother’s 
sister, so that the little touch of irreverence can be 
understood. 

“ And as for papa,” says Olivia, “ that is so long 
ago, isn’t it? We don’t even remember him ! You 
know. Cissy was only a year old when he died, and 
I was two. Why, it must be quite seventeen years 
ago, mama, and things have changed so much.” 

8 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


** True,” says Mrs. Fitzgerald, with a sigh. They 
have all three so often talked of the death of 
the father that it comes in quite simply now, with 
no element of hardness or unkindness about it. 
Still ” 

“ After all, it would be for our good,” says Cecily. 
“ Mrs. Gilbert would not ask you to take in anyone 
who would be — well ” 

“ Horrid — like herself,” interrupts Olivia. 

And,” goes on Cecily, “ so many people do that 
sort of thing now. Even good people — good families, 
I mean. And we are so poor ; and this old house, 
with all its rooms — she might have quite a suite to 
herself. We need never see her, except at dinner 
and that.” 

“ Yes,” says Mrs. Fitzgerald faintly. She had 
told herself she would never give in, has not given 
in yet, but she knows now that she is w'avering ; and 
it is bitter to her, this idea of seeking to augment 
her all too slender income by taking a stranger into 
her house. And yet, to refuse this chance of getting 
out of her difficulties — her bills — that of late, since 
the girls have grown up, and want extra fripperies, 
have swollen to enormous proportions — of paying 
the many ‘‘small and early” household debts,' that all 
the care in the world has not prevented from mount- 
ing up almost to the horizon of her outview ! Mrs. 
Gilbert is scarcely a woman after her own heart, but 
she is a connection, and certainly to be depended 
upon in certain ways. And two hundred pounds ! 

” What does Mrs. Gilbert say about her ?” asks 
Olivia. 


9 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ Not so very much. She vouches for her respect- 
ability, of course. Says that in a short time she 
will be her own mistress — whatever that may mean. 
She says, too, that she is twenty, and more, but not 
twenty-one.” 

‘'Ah! that means that at twenty-one she will 
come into something — a property or something.” 

“ It might mean anything in the world,” says her 
mother. “ What I don’t like is this : Maud insists 
that we are not to question her about her former 
life. We are to take her for granted, as it were. 
We must not ask where she came from, or who she 
is, or — anything.” 

“ Oh, poor girl ! I’m sure she has run away from 
an unhappy home,” says Cecily. 

“ Unhappy — when she has no relations !” Olivia 
shakes her head. 

Cecily makes a little moue. 

“ One for you and me, mammy !” 

“ Oh ” Olivia laughs. “ You know what I mean, 

and I stick to what I say. Besides, she can have no 
home at all, when she has no one belonging to 
her.” 

“ She has a guardian, I can see from the letter,” 
says Mrs. Fitzgerald. “ But if she has one, I can’t 
understand Maud’s interfering with him. She is the 
last person in the world to do anything for charity’s 
sake — to do anything that would prejudice her own 
set against her — to take up a crusade that would 
not have fashion as its leader. She has asked me 
to take this girl on trust, but I don’t like this touch 
of secrecy in her letter.” Here she takes the letter 

lO 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


up. “‘A girl — ^young— just twenty. Charming — 
of good family’ ” — she reads in little jerks — “ ‘ to 
come in for an enormous fortune within the year — 
unless the most unforeseen thing happens” ’ — this 
is dashed! ‘“Not a chance to be thrown away; 
and I know you, dearest Dora, are not too well gifted 
with this world’s goods, so I offer it to you above 
all others. It is really a good thing, or I should 
not, of course, write to you about it. It is, indeed, 
a chance you may never get again.’ ” Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald, as if annoyed by something in this remark, 
grows a little more jerky — more nervous. ” ‘ She 
cannot endure her present home, and wishes to 
escape from it to a more congenial one. It would, 
therefore, be a real charity on your part to take her 
in.’ ” 

Here the reader pauses as if going to say some- 
thing ; then checks herself and goes on. The letter 
seems lengthy. 

“ ‘ Of course, all this sounds a little risky, and with 
your girls you must, of course, be careful ; but I as- 
sure you, dear Dora, you need have no fears. She 
is quite all right, in every way. I can vouch for her. 
You understand, however, that no questions are to 
be asked. I know all about her and her people; 
they (the people) are dead, all except her guardian, 
who is unhappily alive, and who is only a connec- 
tion. Him I have known for many years. He is a 
'perfect brute! ” 

“ Oh ! poor thing !” cries Cissy. 

“ It certainly sounds dreadful !” says her mother, 
and goes on with the letter. 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

“ ‘ He kept her short of money — indeed, actually 
without money — for years, although he was allowed 
a very respectable sum from the Court of Chancery 
for her education, maintenance, &c., since she was 
three years of age. Her education, considering she 
was an heiress, was disgraceful ; in fact, he pocketed 
the money meant to be spent on her ! And that is 
not all, either. There is worse— worse behind ! 
I wish I could speak, but, any way, it was a clear 
swindle, and in my opinion he ought to be in New- 
gate, or in the Old Bailey, or somewhere’ — with de- 
lightful impartiality — ‘ instead of being in the midst 
of luxury ; but the law blinks its eyes at many things 
nowadays. And, in fact, he could not be accused 
formally of any crime towards her, a clause in the 
will of her most mistaken father giving him the right 
to use at his own discretion that six hundred a year 
the courts allowed him for her upbringing. You can 
see the father was an idiot ! The guardian is a truly 
detestable man, but highly respectable, in his world. 
No means of shewing him up, though I should 
dearly like to do it, and perhaps sh.dX\yet/ But the 
society of to-day sickens me more and more as I live 
in it. My dear little friend of whom I write is, how- 
ever, charming — undeniably charming — and, by the 
bye, her name is Chloe — Chloe Jones.’ ” 

“Jones!” says Cissy. 

“ Chloe Jones !” Olivia looks amazement. “ A 
curious combination.” 

“ Well, it doesn’t really matter what her name is, 
as we are not going to have her.” Mrs. Fitzgerald 
takes hope again, and resumes the reading of the 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


letter abruptly. “ ' And though a great unhappiness 
has clouded her life, all brought about by the wicked 
malevolence and cupidity of this infamous guardian 
(I wish, dear Dora, I could give you his name, so 
that you might find him out and execrate him as I 
do ; but ’ ”) 

“ He must be a perfect Bluebeard !” puts in Olivia 
breathlessly. 

“'I know’” — reading again — “'you will be de- 
lighted with her — if you will only have her. I am 
nothing if not frank and open, and I tell you plainly 
she is running away from a most miserable home, 
where she has been illtreated, abused, betrayed!''^ 

“ That must be the guardian’s home.” 

“But the unhappiness! She seems to hint at 
something more than ordinarily unpleasant. I really 
think” — Mrs. Fitzgerald grows sympathetic — “he 
must have thwarted her in some love affair.” 

“ Oh, of course !” cries Cissy eagerly. “ Mama, 
you have guessed it too. /guessed it long ago !” 

“ But she speaks of cupidity 1” says Olivia. 

“Well, can’t you see? The poor lover was not 
rich enough,” says Mrs. Fitzgerald, who is quite de- 
lighted with the touch of romance. 

“ Oh !” Cissy grows thoughtful. “ If she came 
here,” she says presently, her eyes widening with 
delightful anticipation, “ the lover might come too, 
and you, mama — yon might settle it all !” 

“ Still,” says Olivia, “ Mrs. Gilbert might do that. 
And” — as a little thoughtful silence falls on them all 
— “ it would be a far easier thing to do than helping 
her to escape and sending her here.” 

*3 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

*‘True,” says Mrs. Fitzgerald, her face, still so 
young and beautiful, shewing a shade of disappoint- 
ment ; perhaps she would have liked to succour these 
poor lovers. “ However, let us hear the rest of it. 

* But she’ ’’—reading again— “ ‘ is the dearest girl, and 
if she does not run to you, she will certainly run to 
someone else. And — for your own sake, Dora, I 
cannot refrain from putting before you the fact that 
two hundred pounds is something in these hard days. 
And such a dear girl! No trouble. And if you 
only knew ’ ” 

“ Knew what, mama ?” 

“ I can’t tell you, darling. There is a great blot 
just here. If I only knew who she was^ I suppose 
she means. Of course, if I did know it would be 
far more satisfactory ; it would, indeed, make all the 
difference — that is” — hastily — “ if I were going to 
receive her. But ” 

“ Yes, yes,” says Olivia hurriedly. Then : Why 
doesn’t Mrs. Gilbert receive her ?” 

‘‘ Ah — that comes in now !” Mrs. Fitzgerald con- 
sults the letter again. “ ‘ I would take her in myself 
gladly^ but I am too well known to ’ ” 

Mrs. Fitzgerald pores over the letter. 

“ To whom ?” Olivia is leaning forward too. 

I can’t read it. It is so blotted. All her letter is 
blotted in parts, I can’t think why. She used to 
be very methodical. However, I think I see a capi- 
tal B ” — reading again — “ ‘ am too well known 

to ’ ” She stops. No ; I can’t make it out.” 

“ A capital B ; that stands for Brute,” says Cissy, 
with a touch of genius. “ Of course, she means the 
14 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

guardian. She is very well known to him, without 
doubt.” 

Perhaps. And yet” — scrutinising the letter care- 
fully — “ it looks like the beginning of a name. A 
capital B — with a u, or an r, or both, written after it, 
and then scratched out.” 

“ Well,” — triumphantly — “ don’t those letters go to 
make up a brute ?” 

“ I think,” says Olivia, “ the r comes after the u ; 
don’t you, mama?” 

‘^A mere slip of the pen.” Cissy is determined 
not to let her honours be taken from her. “And 
seeing she had made a mull of the whole word, she 
very naturally scratched it all out. What comes 
after * I am too well known to’ ?” 

“ ^ Her many friends, who would naturally betray 
her ; friends always do.’ What a cynical remark !” 

“ It is all very strange,” says Olivia. “ But I do so 
pity that poor girl ; don’t you, mama ?” 

“She goes on to say,” exclaims Mrs. Fitzgerald, 
hurriedly taking refuge in the letter, “ ^ that not only 
will my receiving this young lady into my house be 
an act of charity towards her, but the means of cir- 
cumventing the plot of a villain. She will in all human 
probability — she dashes this ; indeed, she dashes every- 
thing — ‘ be her own mistress, and one of the wealthi- 
est people in England, in a very short time ! And 
of immense use to your girls when all is over ” 

“ * All is over !’ What an extraordinary remark ! 
It sounds” — Olivia shivers — “ like the death of some- 
one.” 

“The whole thing is beyond our understanding; 

15 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


and I shall have nothing to do with it, though I do 
sincerely pity the poor girl !” says Mrs. Fitzgerald, 
who has been moved almost to tears by her cousin’s 
letter — a letter that to her seems to teem with gra- 
cious kindliness towards the unknown Chloe. She 
has failed through the honesty of her own tenderness 
(that has no pretence about it) to notice the under- 
current of rage and revenge that speaks through the 
angry tirade. 

“ Oh, but, mama, why not ?” says Cissy. “ Two 
hundred pounds would clear you of all your debts, 
and, we need not say anything about it — the arrange- 
ment, I mean. If she is a cousin of Mrs. Gilbert’s 
she is in a way a cousin of ours, and so ” 

“ I don’t think I could keep up a deceit like that,” 
says Mrs. Fitzgerald regretfully. I should be sure 
to tell somebody.” 

“ Oh, well, of course we should tell somebody 
says Olivia. ‘‘ Sir Hardress, I think‘s — doubtfully — 
“ had better be told, and Laurence, and — and Tom 
— though Tom is sure to be a bore over it — 
and ” 

The Major,” says her mother. 

“ Now, why Major O’Hara ?” Olivia turns a little 
angry glance upon her mother. ** He is not con- 
nected with us in any way. He is an old friend of 
yours — a” — with a little sound of annoyance — very 
old friend ; not belonging to us, like Tom, and Lau- 
rence, and Sir Hardress — though I hate the last.” 

Mrs. Fitzgerald grows silent — singularly silent. 
Major O’Hara is indeed an old friend of hers — had 
been an old friend of hers even before her marriage, 

i6 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


and a very devoted lover into the bargain. But now, 
on his return to this little Irish village, after wander- 
ings of ten years and more, he has devoted himself 
(as everyone in the neighbourhood has seen) to 
Olivia, who is indeed the image of what her mother 
was at her age, if not quite so handsome. Major 
O’Hara is a rich man, if not inordinately so, and at 
all events the best match in the county, so Olivia, 
amongst her set, is considered distinctly lucky ; tre- 
mendously lucky if he had been a young man, but 
lucky all the same, considering his age. And, in- 
deed, the genial Major hardly comes under Olivia’s 
title of very old. 

“ Major O’Hara is a person to be depended upon,” 
says Mrs. Fitzgerald in a low tone. “You are a 
little ungrateful about him, Olivia darling — especially 

as And you know, dearest, that if you could 

bring yourself to accept that good and true man it” 
— she hesitates and looks down ; then looking ner- 
vously up again she finds Olivia frowning — “ it,” she 
continues hurriedly, “ would make me very happy.” 

The “ happy” is emphasised. 

“It is manners,” says Olivia curtly, “to wait to 
be asked.” She rises from the table. Her mother 
rises too. 

“No! don’t go like that!” cries she, running to 
the girl and slipping an arm around her. “You 
shan’t marry anyone you don’t like, my dear, dear 
girl; but what I dread is — your being poor; poor 
always^ as you are now ; as you have ever been.” 

“ I shouldn’t mind that,” says Olivia, who has ac- 
cepted the gentle caress at once. 

17 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

“ Ah ! but I should for you. When one is pretty, 
one should — have things,” says her mother, tears 
flooding her eyes. 

She had never regretted her own marriage, which, 
indeed, had been a happy, if a short-lived, one ; but 
she had been far prettier than Olivia, and she had 
never had things ! She had always been at her wit’s 
end for a little ready money. Parisian frocks, and 
diamonds ; little trips in the spring and autumn, had 
not been for her ! But why should they not be for 
Olivia ? 


CHAPTER II. 

“ Youth that knows no dread 
Of any horrors lurking far ahead 

Across the sunny flowered fields of life.” ! 

The Fitzgeralds are undoubtedly very pretty girls. | 
Not beautiful ; with no classical features ; with noth- | 
ing splendid about them, or Greek, or intense, or ' 
heroic; merely ordinary refined and happy-minded j 
girls, sadly deficient in the New Woman business. j 
The elder, Olivia, is, as I think has been said, ex- ! 
tremely like her mother ; so like her, indeed, as to I 
make strangers remark on the wonderful resemblance. I 
It would be impossible, however, not to see that Mrs. j 
Fitzgerald, when at Olivia’s age, must have been I 
far the more beautiful of the two. There are one or | 
two who think her more beautiful even now. i 

Mrs. Fitzgerald is forty-two, and tall and slender j 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


— almost as slender as her girls — and with much of 
the vivid air of youth still about her, she looks singu- 
larly young for her years. There was, indeed, quite 
a delightful little sensation in Aughribeg about three 
years ago, when one of the men stationed at Clon- 
bree (a dapper little captain in the 97th) had fallen 
headlong in love with her, and had actually, in spite 
of the fact that she was ten years older than he was, 
and in spite, too, of a far greater difficulty — her 
horrified coldness at his advances — insisted on pro- 
posing to her. 

She was immensely ashamed of it — stricken with 
shame, indeed; and for twelve long months after- 
wards would not invite any of the men stationed at 
Clonbree inside her doors, doors that, in spite of the 
fact that she could not give them champagne or 
truffles, were the most popular in the county. How- 
ever, Olivia’s coming out had very naturally changed 
all that, and now once again the Hermitage, old ram- 
shackle place as it is, is the pleasantest rendezvous 
of all for the young men and maidens of the neigh- 
bourhood. 

Olivia, though singularly like her mother, is still 
unlike her. Their eyes have the same deep, dark, 
velvety hue, but in Olivia’s case there is much more 
of earnestness ; Olivia’s face all through, indeed, is a 
little grave; whereas Mrs. Fitzgerald’s, in spite of 
her many griefs and trials, has retained that delight- 
fully dancing light in it that belongs especially to 
her country people, and leaves her charming to the 
last. Though there may be this difference in their 
eyes, their gracious mouths at least are twins ; so 
2 19 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


good to look at, either when serious or sympathetic, 
or when, as is more frequent, they are parted in pretty 
smiles. 

As for Cissy, thoughts tragic or melancholy sel- 
dom trouble her. She looks out with eyes of bril- 
liant blue upon this uncertain world of ours with a 
mixture of audacity and curiosity greatly to be 
envied. Cissy is “her father's daughter," as they 
say in Aughribeg; taking things as they come, 
lightly, carelessly, and with “no thought for the 
morrow," beyond this — that if to-day is bad, to- 
morrow may be better. Happy Cissy ! 

Twenty years ago their mother — then Dora Flem- 
ing, and one of the loveliest girls in Ireland — had 
thrown away many a good match to marry her par- 
ticular Prince Charming. George P'itzgerald, the 
young master of the Hermitage, was very little older 
than herself at that time; was handsome, gallant, 
desperately in love, and quite as desperately in debt. 
He did not conceal that fact from her; he was quite 
honest and open about it; but he certainly did not 
try to dissuade her from a marriage that must only 
bring her trouble and discomfort in the very near 
future. All her friends and relatives were, of course, 
against such an ill-advised start in life ; but beauti- 
ful Dora, very much in love, and full of that most 
melancholy of all beliefs — that of “ something turn- 
ing up" — carried her point and married her George, 
and for the five years she lived with him was as 
happy a creature, in spite of duns and worries of 
many sorts, as could be found in this sorrowful 
world. But poor George broke his neck out hunt- 
20 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


ing one cold January morning, to leave his lovely 
girl,” as he used to call her, with two small girls of 
her own, to break her heart over his loss. 

Once the great stun^ the great horror, was over, 
she took up the threads of her life very bravely, and 
fought hard for the means to bring up her pretty 
little children. Something was saved out of what 
once had been so good a rent-roll. The old house 
she could have, and a certain yearly sum. A bare 
pittance to one who had been brought up as she had 
been — a mere two hundred a year, in fact. But she 
put her shoulder to the wheel, and saved, and re- 
trenched, and sent away all the servants except one 
girl and old Feeney, who had been her own nurse, 
and afterwards her children’s, and who was a “ power 
in the land.” 

Mrs. Feeney had seen her through all her joys and 
all her griefs ; and had strongly disapproved of her 
marriage with “ poor Masther George” — Mrs. Feeney, 
having been born in Aughribeg, of course knew all 
the young members of all the best families round, 
and called them by their Christian names, with just 
the Miss or the Master before them. She would have 
liked Miss Dora to marry Mr. O’Hara, the only 
child and heir of the O’Haras, of The Glen, then a 
young lieutenant in the Hussars ; but Dora, as has 
been said, would look at no one but George Fitz- 
gerald. O’Hara had gone away before the wedding 
(broken-hearted, people said), had exchanged into a 
regiment going to India, and had been lost sight of 
for many a day (by the inhabitants of Aughribeg, at 
all events) until a year ago, when he came home un- 
21 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


expectedly, took up once again his residence at The 
Glen, as a traveller and very distinguished soldier — 
a major now — and had promptly, as everyone could 
see, fallen in love with Olivia Fitzgerald. 

Olivia, being the very image of what her mother 
had been — hardly so beautiful — old memories (whis- 
pered the gossips) had undoubtedly waked this fresh 
admiration within him. And Major O’Hara had 
come home, as he had gone, a bachelor. 

Sir Hardress Lloyd, of Castle Lloyd, a really 
lovely old place, about two miles from the Hermi- 
tage, had been the first to hear of Major O’Hara’s 
infatuation for Olivia, and had been at pains to im- 
press the importance of it on Olivia’s mother. The 
Major was one of the richest men in the neighbour- 
hood. He had no expenses, by Jove! No wives 
(Sir Hardress had had two), no children to bring up. 
He had more money than he knew what to do with. 
Olivia would be mad to refuse such an offer — and so 
on, and on, and on. 

Sir Hardress was Mrs. Fitzgerald’s brother-in-law, 
and naturally she listened to him. Indeed, there was 
no reason why she should not in this instance. Major 
O’Hara having all the advantages he had named, 
and, indeed, a great many more ; a truly kind and 
loving disposition for one thing, and a heart that had 
kept ever young for another. But then, Olivia was 
young without having to keep herself so; and be- 
sides — 

However, she listened, as was natural, to her 
brother-in-law, who was not only that, but the most 
influential person, the largest land-holder, and most 
22 




THE COMING OF CHLOE 

undoubtedly the best disliked man in the country 
round. 

He had married first, in his younger days (though 
Cissy always stoutly maintained he never had younger 
days, and was born in a tall hat and a frock coat), the 
daughter of a mere nobody, who had been lucky 
enough to make a fortune out of buttons. Buttons, 
of all things! Even Stout would have been more 
spirited. But buttons have little heart in them, and 
this she proved, because almost directly after the 
birth of her son Tom, she had meekly lain down 
upon her bed, and refusing, like Mrs. Dombey, to 
make an effort,” had died. 

Three years after her death Sir Hardress had 
married again — Lydia Fleming, Dora’s elder sister; 
a very pretty and sprightly girl, with no money, but 
a long pedigree. She, too, died six months after the 
birth of a son, called Laurence, and Sir Hardress 
had made no further venture in the matrimonial line. 
Strange to say — considering his extraordinary pride 
and haughty dislike to those of low birth, a dislike 
that led him to treat his first wife’s people with 
abominable want of respect or kindness — he had still 
loved that first wife — a cold, dark, silent, plain little 
thing — far better than he had treated pretty Lydia 
Fleming, who had really cared for him in her own 
fanciful way. The other had defied and scorned him 
to the last hour of her life, yet he had sorrowed for 
her, more than any man knew ; and though he had 
replaced her soon {too soon, said all the matrons 
whose daughters were waiting for him to ask them 
to take her place), still he never forgot her, and on 
23 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


the death of Lydia, who was really a most brilliant 
creature, betrayed a grief so frugal that her sister 
Dora never forgave him for it. 

To the sons of the two marriages Sir Hardress 
had shewn, from the very beginning, different degrees 
of affection — if affection, in anyone so cold and re- 
pellent, it could be called. To Tom, the elder son, 
and his heir, a young man of twenty-eight, tall, dark, 
good-looking, and a little cynical, he is as agree- 
able as his nature will permit him to be. To Lau- 
rence, born of the second marriage, who is twenty- 
four, he is cold and stern scarcely just. He would 
perhaps be even more unjust, but that Tom, between 
whom and Laurence a strong and abiding love exists, 
steps in now and then to prevent it. A great deal 
of his mother’s strong but quiet obstinacy is in Tom’s 
nature, and at times Sir Hardress to his own heart 
confesses he is a little afraid of the son he has pre- 
ferred. 

Both the young men call Mrs. Fitzgerald ^‘aunt” 
— though they very seldom use that most hideous 
of all terms — ^but as a fact, as you can see, Tom Lloyd 
cannot claim that relationship. He is, however, so 
fond of her that he likes to think he belongs to her 
in some way; and being such a little fellow when 
Laurence was born, and taking to mind the fact that 
he^ Laurence, called her “ Dody,” Tom had called her 
“ Dody” too, and as Dody she had continued to be 
until quite a few years ago, when it had occurred to 
“ the boys” (as she even now calls them) to make it 
“Dora.” Never aunt, or even auntie! It seemed 
absurd to call this pretty and still so young-looking 

24 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

woman by such an aged title. No; they would 
none of it. Why, it would raise derision in the 
neighbourhood ! 

“ It’s disgraceful of you !” said Tom, arguing it 
out with her one day, “ but, you know, you do look 
just as young as I do; not a day older anyway.” 
Tom had a way of posing as quite elderly. “ I don’t 
ask how it is managed, but I feel you ought to be 
ashamed of yourself. Nobody else can do it ; and I 
shall certainly decline to call you ‘ auntie’ under the 
circumstances. As a fact, I believe you are really 
much younger than I am, and that you ought to call 
me ‘ uncle'! ” 

At that Mrs. Fitzgerald had laughed, and made a 
pretence of boxing his ears. The tenderest pretence. 
He had then turned somewhat abruptly to Olivia. 

Well, what do you think ? I look older — eh ?” 
older!" 

Her glance was a little aggressive. 

“ That’s a compliment. I feel old, however. 
Older” — looking at her with such a fixed regard 
that she had to return it — “ than even Major O’Hara.” 

Olivia, thus compelled to look back, had kept her 
temper admirably. 

“As for that. Major O’Hara is not a Methuselah !” 
she said. 

And indeed he was not. He was a handsomp, 
well-preserved man, a splendid shot, a straight goer 
to hounds, and, according to old Feeney, “ as smart 
on his pins, God bless us ! as iver he was.” But Tom 
Lloyd, for some unaccountable reason, did not care 
for the Major (who, on the contraiy, seemed quite 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


anxious to be friendly and hospitable with him), and 
had a little way of jeering at the Major and his ad- 
miration for Olivia no one could explain. But then, 
as Cissy said, Tom and Olivia were always on the 
war-path.” 

The state of Mrs. Fitzgerald’s finances being at so 
low an ebb had made that strange suggestion of 
Mrs. Gilbert’s a thing of considerable importance to 
her. A guest — a paying guest — who was willing to 
give two hundred pounds down for a tenancy of six 
months only was not a chance to be lightly thrown 
on one side. The sum this strange tenant offered for 
half the year was as much as she and her girls had 
to live on for the whole year ! The girls had pressed 
the matter on her, had argued night and day as girls 
will, until at last she had consented to Mrs. Gilbert’s 
plan, and had written (under Cissy’s supervision) to 
say they should expect Miss Chloe Jones on the 
29th. 

Up to the last Mrs. Fitzgerald had not had the 
courage to tell anyone. She had, indeed, said she 
expected a friend — a cousin of her cousin, Mrs. Gil- 
bert — to come and stay with her for a time ; but be- 
yond that she could not go, except to Sir Hardress, 
whose mean soul she knew would be delighted at the 
idea of her making money out of anyone. In him 
she confided, and he encouraged her most nobly to 
receive the unknown person, who, for all he knew or 
cared, might turn her home from a very happy one 
into a scene of misery and disorder. Yet, though 
she fully understood and scorned him, it was a relief 

26 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


to her to have told someone. Major O’Hara she 
would have liked to take into her confidence too, 
but somehow she shrank from telling him and “ the 
boys” what she had done until secrecy was no longer 
possible. To-day is the 28th, and to-morrow she 
will be here, this unknown and greatly-dreaded 
guest ; and finding the Major and Tom and Laurence 
all together in her garden, it suddenly occurs to her 
that she must speak before the coming of Chloe ; and 
so, taking her courage in her two hands (she never 
afterwards remembered how the courage came), she 
speaks. 

James,” says she, addressing the Major, who is 
talking to Olivia — she always calls him by his 
Christian name, being such very old friends with 
him, as we know, and, in fact, having grown up with 
him — “ I am going to take in a — a lodger to-mor- 
row.’* 

If she had exploded a little bomb in their midst, 
she could hardly have created a greater sensation. 


CHAPTER III. 

For still th’ anticipation of the strife 
Is than the strife more dreadful.” 

The Major springs to his feet. So does Laurence. 
Tom turns and looks at Olivia somewhat deliberately. 
What !” cries Major O’Hara. ‘‘Good heavens! 

Dora ! have you gone mad ?” 

27 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


I wish you wouldn’t say a lodger ^ mama,” puts 
in Cissy anxiously. A paying guest is what you 
are going to ” 

“To what? To put up I suppose you mean,” 
cries the Major indignantly. “ To put up with would 
be nearer the mark ; and as for the difference in the 
name of the article — pshaw !” 

The Major waves his hand tragically. Tom Lloyd 
laughs — an annoyed laugh. 

“ I wish you would listen,” says Cissy petulantly, 
“ I hadn’t finished my sentence. I was going to say 
that ” 

“ Who could listen?” cries the Major indignantly, 
his handsome face growing crimson. “ To-morrow ! 
Oh ! it must be stopped ! Must be put an end to. 
God bless me, Dora ! have you thought what it will 

mean to you ? An old fogey of — of ” — he was 

going to say fifty, but suddenly recollecting that he 
himself is forty-nine, he backs water somewhat 
smartly — “ of sixty, very likely, and ” 

“ It is not a man, it is a woman — a lady !” interrupts 
Mrs. Fitzgerald eagerly. “As if” — reproachfully — 
I would take a man into my house ! But this is a 
— oh, yes. Cissy, I know — a guest recommended to 
me by Maud Gilbert, and she says she is desirable in 
every way, and ” 

And then she gives them the story, or at least the 
best half of it, not denying even that the money part 
of it — two hundred pounds for six months — had led 
her to the acceptance of Mrs. Gilbert’s strange offer. 
“ It was wanted,” she says, so very gently, so very 
sadly, that Major O’Hara grinds his heel into the 
28 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


ground, and Laurence looks distinctly unhappy, 
“ and really, as Maud had written so satisfactory a 
letter about her, she thought it would be no harm 
to take in the lady in question, for a little time — only 
six months. Of course she would not stay longer. 
Anyone so well off would hardly endure the quietude 
of this place for longer than that !” 

‘‘ Where does she come from ? Who is she ?” asks 
the Major, a martial air about him. 

“ Well, that’s where the real difficulty comes in,” 
says Mrs. Fitzgerald, trying to assume a very casual 
manner, whilst sinking inwardly. “ Maud says 
that no questions are to be asked. We are to 
take her on trust. She guarantees that we will not 
suffer through her, but rather benefit ; and ” 

But here a regular turmoil arises. An angry 
clamour on the part of the men, that culminates in 
Major O’Hara catching Mrs. Fitzgerald’s arm and 
leading her in a very magisterial fashion to a garden 
chair lower down. 

“You must excuse me, my dear Dora; but ’pon 
my conscience such madness I never yet knew! 
You’re not fit to conduct your own affairs ; you’re 
not, indeed ; you should have someone to look after 
you. But I can see” — angrily — “that you are ob- 
stinately bent on going your own way, without 
asking anyone — even a friend — an old friend — ^your” 
— warmly — “ oldest friend, to have a look in. Have 
you thought of your girls ? Are you going to bring 
in a woman of whom you know nothing, to live and 
associate with your daughters ?” 

Instinctively he looks at Cissy and Olivia, who 
29 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


are evidently, in the near distance, having a very bad 
time with Tom and Laurence; but Mrs. Fitzgerald 
can see that his glance lingers longer on Olivia. 

** Certainly I know nothing of her,” she says, a 
little coldly ; “ but you forget she has been recom- 
mended to me by Maud Gilbert. You knew her, I 
think?” 

‘‘Oh! I remember her” — impatiently — “a society 
fool married to a rather decent sort of fellow, who 
died some years ago — of her, they all said. At all 
events, there was no special disease. She was a friend 
of Burlingham’s. Ever met him? — the notorious 
Marquis ? Married only a little time ago, and now, 
they say, off to Italy with — well, not with his wife — 
happy woman I However, that’s got nothing to do 
with it. Now, why, on anyone’s recommendation, 
should you upset your whole household like this ?” 

“ I’ve told you,” says she, in rather a sad tone. 

“ Well, confound it all, Dora I” says the Major, “ I 
think you might have consulted someone first be- 
fore ” 

“ I did I” says Mrs. Fitzgerald. “ I told Hardress. 
He knows all about it.” 

Major O’Hara suppresses a rather strong excla- 
mation. 

“ He knew, and ” 

“ He advised me to do it. My dear James, think ! 
Where is the harm in it ? He was very wise, I 
suppose ; and the girls think as he does ; and ” 

“ I’d like to kick him !” says the Major, in slow 
and solemn tones. “ D’ye mean to tell me he didn’t 
offer to help you ?” 


30 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


No. But ” 

“ Did you tell him” — indignantly — that you were 
taking in this unknown person just because you 
wanted two hundred pounds ?” 

“ I didn’t exactly say that.” 

** Then why didn’t you ? How wrong you are 
all through, Dora ! If he knew that, he would of 
course have given you a cheque, and an end to all 
this would have ” 

“ It is you who are wrong,” says she in a stifled 
tone, stopping him with an almost passionate ges- 
ture. “ Once” — painfully — “ I asked him for fifty 
pounds ; it is quite five years ago. He refused. Do 
you think I would ask him again ?” 

** What a cur !” says the Major. “ Not him again, 

certainly. But — from — an old friend, Dora ” 

Oh, how silly you are !” cries Mrs. Fitzgerald, 
with a little tremulous laugh. And then : ** I know 
— I know indeed'* — she lowers her eyes; tears are 
lying beneath her lashes ; how fond he is of Olivia ! — 
I know you would do a great deal for — us, but — 
I could not accept money from you, or — any friend.’' 

time might come” — Major O’Hara’s face 
turns a shade paler — “when — circumstances might 
make me — more than — er — a friend.” 

“As to that” — Mrs. Fitzgerald grows extremely 
nervous — “ I don’t see how that could be.” Is it a 
proposal for Olivia ? Her face takes a deeper dye. 
Olivia ! And he is — he must be — close on the fifties ! 
She checks a sigh. Yes, of course; this is a hint 
about Olivia — about his desire to marry her. Poor 
darling Olivia, who naturally shrinks from the 
31 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


thought ; though, after all, why should she ? The 
Major is young still, and rich, and — and what man 
alive could make any woman so happy ! She does 
not raise her eyes to look at the Major, but she can 
see him for all that, as he now sits beside her; 
a tall, good-looking man, wearing his forty-nine 
years bravely, and with the very kindest expression 
on his face that ever man yet wore. A little full in 
figure, perhaps, but not so much so as to draw atten- 
tion to it. 

A distinguished-looking man ; not an elderly 
Adonis, by any means, but a delightful, healthy, 
cheerful fellow, with a temper as excellent as his 
appetite. His career, too, has been quite as distin- 
guished as his appearance might lead one to expect. 
He could show you his Victoria Cross if he chose ; 
but he never does choose ; and it is with a very re- 
luctant and almost shy air he produces it when to 
refuse seems churlish. 

There is certainly nothing of the military martinet 
about him. Major Jim had been adored by all his 
corps. There was a story of how a most unmiti- 
gated ruffian, being enrolled in his regiment, the 
Major — then Captain O’Hara — had taken him in 
hand, had treated him (as, perhaps, for the first time 
in his life he ever had been treated) as a human 
being, and had made a very splendid and heroic 
soldier of him in the long run. No ; there is nothing 
repellent about the Major. He is only a kindly, 
friendly, upright gentleman, simple in his desires 
and liberal with his purse (which providentially is a 
comfortably long one) to a rather quixotic extent. 

32 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


To the extent, indeed, of being sometimes a little 
done. But to “the Major,” as he is always affection- 
ately called in Aughribeg, it is a very difficult matter 
to say “ no.” 

“ Anyway,” says Mrs. Fitzgerald quickly, “ the 
girl is coming. She will be here to-morrow by the 
first train.” 

“ And you know nothing about her ?” 

“ I have told you that Maud made it part of the 
bond that we were to ask no questions. I know it 
is extraordinary; I know very few women would 
take in a girl on those terms ; but I am quite sure 
Maud — poor dear George’s cousin — would not ” 

“ Let you in for something unpleasant ?” The 
Major grows contemplative. “Well, ’pon my word, 
I don’t know ! I shouldn’t like to bet my last penny 
on Mrs. Gilbert’s innate honesty. You know she 
is a little notorious nowadays. All her own set are 
laughing at her. She had made up her mind to 
marry Burlingham — that fellow I was telling you 
about a few moments ago — but he — well, at any rate, 
he gave her the go-by, and married a very young 
girl. I know some of her connections ” 

The Major hesitates here. “’Pon my word!” 
goes on he with charming chivalry, “ it’s hardly fit 
to talk to you about, but — well, Mrs. Gilbert had a 
veiy good riddance of him, as he gave the go-by to 
his wife six months after his marriage, and went off 
to Italy with somebody else. However, Mrs. Gilbert 
was greatly cut up over it. She had made up her 
mind to be a Marchioness, you see, and declared she 
could have put up with his defection afterwards.” 

33 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

** She was always very ambitious,” says Mrs. 
Fitzgerald reluctantly. 

And — an accomplished liar,” says Major O’Hara. 
“ Oh, I beg your pardon. She is a sort of cousin 
of yours, you tell me, though how she can be ” 

“ Of poor George’s !” kindly. 

*‘Ah!” He had never felt much sympathy for 
“ poor George.” ” However, all this has little to 
do with what we were talking about. Must this 
thing be, Dora ? Must you take in a — a ” 

“ Paying guest ?” with rather a pale smile. 

‘‘Yes. Must you? You ought to be careful. 
Mrs. Gilbert as a referee — forgive me again, Dora — 
would, in my opinion, be rather a — er — an insuf- 
ficient one,” coldly. 

“ I don’t think George’s cousin would betray me 
in any way.” 

“ I daresay not ; but ” 

“You were always unjust to George,” says Mrs. 
Fitzgerald, rising. “ But to be unjust to George’s 
cousin ! — that ” 


CHAPTER IV. 

** O that this calculating soul would cease 

To forecast accidents, time’s limping errors, 

And take the present with the present’s peace, 

Instead of filling life’s poor days with terrors.” 

She seems quite unequal to explaining the iniquity 
of the “ that,” and turning, goes back to the others. 
Major O’Hara, with rather a crushed air, bringing up 
her train. 


34 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


Tom Lloyd, letting his somewhat searching eyes 
rest upon them as they come, says to himself : “ The 
old fellow has been proposing for — or at all events 
betraying his admiration for — Olivia, and Body is 
nervous. And well she may be. To marry a girl 
of twenty to an old man like that !" Tom’s upper 
lip takes a most unrighteous curve. 

He walks straight across the grass to Olivia, who 
is standing near a little bed of flowers, plucking 
away the few dead or dying leaves from the now 
richly flowering plants. He and she had had a little 
dispute a moment ago — one out of the many thou- 
sands that scarcely disturb their lives. This dispute 
had been about the coming guest ; and Olivia, angry, 
had left him, giving him to understand by a little 
eloquent gesture that she was going simply to avoid 
him — to get rid of him, as, indeed, so she had told 
herself. She and Tom are always at war more or 
less, therefore this little skirmish of to-day is of small 
account. But apparently the skirmish, small as it is, 
is not over yet. 

“ What’s the good of your marching off like that ?” 
asks he. Haven’t you the heart to finish out the 
argument ? Those plants will do uncommonly well 
without being picked to pieces by your fingers, 
whereas I ” 

She turns suddenly, and looks at him with straight 
and very angry eyes. 

“Oh, I know,” continues he, laughing; “you 
would like to pick me to bits too ; but you can’t, you 
know; and I feel I must have this thing out with 
you.” 


3 


35 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ It seems to me thoroughly threshed already !” 
A frown has gathered on her low, broad brow. 

“Not so far as the bringing of it home directly 
to you. Now, I am convinced” — he regards her 
steadily — “that the coming of this objectionable 
person ” 

“ Why objectionable ?” 

“ Never mind. That is a mere detail. The com- 
ing of this — well, person, is a little of your work.” 

“ I didn’t propose it, anyway.” 

“ But you grasped at it when proposed. What a 
practical girl you are, Olivia !” He looks at her with 
a curious smile, that has wonder and something else 
in it. “ The most practical for your age that I know. 
I appreciate your desire for — well, the good things 
of this life ; but, I confess I don’t follow you in your 
latest scheme. If, as seems very probable, you are 
going to marry the worthy, if slightly obese. Major, 
who is a sort of second-class millionaire, why let 
your mother in for the worry of this impromptu 
guest? Surely O’Hara, if properly appealed to by 
you, would ” 

“What was that word you used a few moments 
ago, Tom ? Objectionable ? Does it ever occur to 
you that it might be applied to you? You don’t 
know how you appear to others, I am sure” — ^very 
sweetly — “ or you would try to change yourself. To 
be distinctly vulgar is, of course, the last thing of all ; 
and you ” 

She hesitates, as if unwilling to go on — to point 
more clearly his iniquities. 

“Yes — well?” Tom’s tone is as mild as ever. 
36 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ Leave me at that — the greatest brute you ever knew 
— but answer me. Did you encourage your mother 
to take in this — er — guest into your house 

“I encouraged her largely.” Olivia’s eyes meet 
his unflinchingly. “ We are very poor, as you know ; 
and she seems to be rich. She can therefore help 
us. And I think it more honourable to make money 
by fair means, even at a loss to one’s pride, than to 
owe money that we cannot pay.” 

His brows contract. 

So bad as that ?” 

“ Quite as bad. We owe a good deal for us. No 
doubt a trifle to another.” 

“But I — we — a trifle, and we were there! You 
might have asked us — have told ” 

“Oh! To tellD' She tilts her charming chin. 
“ We’ll tell when hope is ours again.” 

“ Not otherwise ?” 

“ No, no !” She makes an attempt to edge away 
from him, to go back to the others, but he catches 
her by her arm, and by sheer force compels her to 
stand still. 

“ You mean that if you were dying you would not 
ask help from my father, or from ” 

She checks him by a nod — a very sharp, deliberate 
one.^ 

“ Of course not ! Help from Sir Hardress — no ! ” 

“ You speak for yourself, or for your mother ?” 

“For both” — quite calmly — “and if my mother 
were never here, for myself !” 

He lets her go. His eyes, half-closed, look at her 
shrewdly. 


37 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

“That confirms my opinion of you. You are a 
cold, unscrupulous, ungenerous girl, and worldly to 
your heart’s core. You believe in nothing: in the 
goodness of no one; only in the power of money. 
And for money you are willing to sell yourself. No 
doubt you are right. Let me congratulate you ; and 
let us return to the others, who seem to be eagerly 
discussing the new-comer.*’ 

“ We shall no doubt discuss our new-comer from 
this until to-morrow morning,” says Olivia, shrug- 
ging her shoulders indifferently, though her lips 
have grown a little white, “ when we expect to see 
her.” 

“ I hope you will like her when you do,” says 
Tom ; “ but I think it probable she will sink you all 
in a Slough of Despond. Fancy taking anyone into 
your house without knowing who she was, or what 
she was, or ” 

“Yes, that’s what I have been just saying!” ex- 
claims Laurence, somewhat hotly, who has caught 
Tom’s last words. (They have now reached the 
others.) “ A woman utterly unknown ! Have you 
girls”— glancing from Cissy to Olivia— “ ever thought 
what a life she is going to lead you ?” 

“Now, what do you mean by that, Laurence?” 
asks Mrs. Fitzgerald nervously. 

“ Mean ? Why — that I expect she’s ninety if a 
minute, with a red nose, and a temper to match, 
and ” 

“Bad guess,” says Cecily, with a contemptuous 
shrug. “ She’s barely twenty, and charming ; and if 
you fall in love with her and she rejects you, it will 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


be a just punishment for your suspicions. Don’t 
expect me to pity you, that’s all.” 

Only twenty !” Tom is speaking now. “ Good 
heavens ! Only twenty, and no questions to be 
asked ! What” — turning to Mrs. Fitzgerald — “ what 
has she done ?” 

Done?^' 

‘‘Of course! You don’t suppose a young person 
of means (isn’t that how your cousin puts it ?) has 
come down here to bury herself alive, without having 
a very special reason for wishing herself forgotten 
by her own world — wherever that may be ! Mark 
my words ! you’ll have trouble with your new im- 
portation.” 

“ What a raven you are, Tom I” cries Cissy, throw- 
ing a rose against his mouth with very accurate aim, 
as if to stop him. “ A bird of ill-omen.” 

“ Call me any names you like now. It will be my 
glorious privilege to call you names shortly — and 
also to bring you to witness that my words have 
come true, and that you have lived to rue the day 
you ever let a 'suspect^ inside your doors. What 
will it be, I wonder?” continues Tom meditatively, 
with a little glance at Olivia, who is looking some- 
what cold and apart. “ Petty larceny — burglary with 
violence — slow poisoning — bigamy?” He pauses; 
and then, as one convinced : “ Bigamy for choice I” 

“ Bigamy !” — Olivia tilts her charming chin — “ and 
she is only twenty !” 

Because of that! The world runs on greased 
wheels now ; and at twenty — if one can’t do some- 
thing smart at twenty^ one will find oneself left be- 
39 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


hind. Why, she might be a trigam . . . Oh, well, 
never mind ; we won’t make her too conceited. But 
unfortunately, my dear Dora, some of the smartest 
people on record have brought their people to sorry 
passes, and I foresee the day” — looking with deep 
feeling at Mrs. Fitzgerald — “when you and yours 
will be lagged, and brought before our beak down 
here, as an accessory after the fact! No one will 
believe you did not give her hiding-room on purpose. 
If it is burglary with violence, they will believe you 
have half of the swag. I’m not very much up in low 
slang, but that’s all right, isn’t it. Major? and I 
shouldn’t wonder. Body — poor Body ! — if they made 
it a life sentence !” 

“ The whole thing is abominable !” says Laurence, 
impatiently — “that you should take in a girl like 
this ” 

“ Body is not going to do that,” Tom interrupts 
him carefully. “ It is the girl who is going to take 
her in.” 

“ It is beyond a joke.” Laurence is still frowning. 
There is a touch of anger in his dark eyes. He is 
of quicker emotions than his step-brother — at all 
events, outwardly. He is also much handsomer 
than Tom Lloyd, though there is a distinct resem- 
blance between them, but both are of a most excel- 
lent height. “Why” — turning now to his aunt — 
“ should there be such a vital necessity for this thing ? 
Even if you are a little hard up, we could all have 
helped you, couldn’t we?” Here the Major taps his 
foot unconsciously, but earnestly, upon the gravel 
path. “ Come, now. Body, why didn’t you speak to 
40 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

us first, before bringing down this indignity upon 
you ?” 

It is not an indignity !” says Olivia, breaking in 
with a sort of suppressed violence. Why can’t we 
do as all the world is doing ? Why must we be at a 
standstill in this small, wretched, forgotten place? 
Is it because we are at a standstill that we are for- 
gotten? Other people do things to augment their 
incomes; why should not we do it? You call this 
an indignity, but it is not!'* 

“ It is, however, though you may not see it. You 
girls, of course, cannot understand what it may — 
probably will — mean to you later on. But you, 
Body!” — with a reproachful glance at Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald — a stranger brought into your midst, with- 
out even the vaguest knowledge of who she is — with 
no one to ” 

How stupid you are, Laurence !” Olivia, seeing 
her mother’s face a little sad and pained, and very 
nervous, breaks in vehemently. ^*As if mama 
would have anyone here of whom she knew noth- 
ing ! Surely you have heard her say that her cousin, 
Mrs. Gilbert, has given her word for Miss Jones — for 
the girl who is coming here to-morrow !” 

‘^Mrs. Gilbert?” says Tom, turning to the Major 
and speaking in a low tone. “ I’ve met her. Last 
season she was considerably en evidence as an aspi- 
rant to the honour of Lord Burlingham’s title. She 
failed, I remember. A bit of froth on life’s ocean.” 

“Yes, yes, yes!” says the Major in a hurried 
whisper. “But no more, my dear boy. A cousin 
of Dora’s — of your — ^your aunt’s, you know.” 

41 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


Why not wire to her that you can’t have her ?” 
Laurence is still expostulating in a clear and rather 
angry tone. “ I can tell you that if you let it go 
further, you will repent the day you ever let this 
adventuress into your house.” 

Cissy lifts her voice. 

“ That is too strong a term !” cries she indig- 
nantly. “ When we do not know her — have not 
even seen her !” 

”For all that, adventuress is the word. A girl 
who comes here refusing to have questions asked 
about her — how can she be regarded but as an 
adventuress? Of course, there may be arguments, 
but ” 

His arguments, at all events, come at this moment 
to an untimely end. Something in the stricken air 
and attitudes of those around him, the knowledge, 
more than anything else, that they are not listening 
to him, brings him to a dead stop, and a glance in 
the direction that all theirs have taken. 

He looks towards the western gate that leads into 
the garden — a garden filled with roses — and looks to 
his undoing. 

Chloe has come ! 


42 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


CHAPTER V. 

** And young and old 

Extol her grace and say of her — 

She’s made of sunbeams and of flowers 
And dews and dawns and happy hours, 

And music breathed in Eden’s bowers 
When angels play the dulcimer.” 

The ** adventuress’^ is walking towards them ; so 
close is the little wicket-gate by which she has 
entered to where they are all standing that she is 
amongst them before they are aware, and must inevi- 
tably have heard the last sentence; if not more. If 
Laurence had a single doubt still remaining on this 
awful head, she dissipates it at once. Having given a 
charming smile to Mrs. Fitzgerald, who, like all the 
others, has been struck dumb by her sudden appear- 
ance and the guilty uncertainty as to what she has 
or has not heard, she lets her eyes turn lightly to 
where Laurence is standing. There they rest a 
moment, and — is it anger or amusement that warms 
their depths ? 

‘‘ I am afraid,” says she in the very sweetest way, 
that I have come a little too soon.” 

Laurence almost groans aloud. Of course she 
has heard! There is something almost diabolical, 
if also suggestive of mirth, in the slight emphasis on 
the little.” Like his luck all through, he tells him- 
self. 

Oh, no, no ; not at all 1” Mrs. Fitzgerald is say- 
43 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


ing, in an eager, if rather jerky, sort of way. Every- 
one knows instinctively that it is Miss Jones. “ Of 
course it was to-morrow we expected you, but we 
are very pleased to see you a day sooner ; very — er — 
very pleased!” This is pitiable, and Olivia, having 
recovered, comes to her mother’s rescue. 

''You are Miss Jones, of course,” she says, with 
a friendly little glance and smile. Olivia, in the 
clear, swift way of young people, has come to the 
conclusion already that she likes her. Miss Jones 
looks back at her for a moment — for a mere fraction 
of time — as if not quite understanding, and then 
says with a delightful air : 

“ Yes, I am Miss Jones, of course. But — I hope 
you won’t call me that — it is rather a horrid name, 
don’t you think ? As I have come to stay, if” — with 
a little frank and open look at Mrs. Fitzgerald — " you 
will have me, I should like you all to begin by call- 
ing me Chloe.” 

" Does that invitation go round ?” asks the Major, 
who really ought to be ashamed of himself, but, as 
he explained afterwards at much length to Olivia 
(who didn’t care), he had quite gone down before 
this little stranger who had just stepped upon their 
stage. 

It may as well be said at once that they all go 
down before her. It is a case of love at first sight. 
From Mrs. Fitzgerald and the girls to the miserable 
Laurence, who is still praying for the earth to swallow 
him up quick, she captivates them all. 

She is a small, slim, exquisite creature, filled with 
the gaiety of youth, with eyes like dewy violets, and 
44 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


soft and loose brown hair that lies in little ripples on 
her dainty head, and with that dainty head held deli- 
cately poised, as those women hold them who feel 
the world beneath their feet. 

She is explaining to Mrs. Fitzgerald. Her smile, 
as she speaks, is quite sweet and friendly now, and 
without a suspicion of affront or malice. In that 
sudden glance she had given Laurence there had 
certainly been a little gleam of mischievous amuse- 
ment, but now there is nothing in her face but well- 
bred contrition ; and, indeed, her whole air is gently 
self-accusative, in that she has obtruded herself 
upon them a day in advance of that agreed upon. 
But circumstances had arisen, and she had told her- 
self they would perhaps forgive her, and so on. 
They all at once forgive her. Even Tom Lloyd, 
who is a trifle hard-hearted; but then he finds it 
easy, because, looking at her, at her little society air, 
her little fashionable gestures, her Parisian garments, 
he says to himself: 

‘‘I give her one fortnight here, and then, hey 
presto ! — for the world of Paris or London again! 
But what the deuce did she mean by getting Mrs. 
Gilbert to send her here ?" 

Of course, it is all right, he tells himself. All 
right in the most important sense of the word. The 
girl is so very young, so very distinguished-looking, 
in spite of the irrepressible gaiety of her air, and, 
more than all that (which really might amount to 
nothing), there is something about this extraordinary 
Chloe that positively forbids a single unpleasant 
thought about her. 


45 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


And now she is being introduced to everybody, 
and has given her hand very prettily to them all: J 
with special friendliness, indeed, to Laurence, who is ; 
still a dark and very uncomfortable red, a fact that . 
delights them, assuring them that she has not heard S 
his unhappy remark just at her entrance; assuring \ 
them all, except the culprit himself. He had not j 
mistaken that first flash in her eyes — that touch of j 
exaggerated friendliness in her cool little grasp. | 

Half an hour goes by. The girls had been going 
to see the finals played at a small local tournament 
at five o’clock, and had ordered tea somewhat earlier 
in consequence, but now feel themselves bound, of 
course, to stay at home. Somewhat of a disappoint- 
ment to them, but to desert mama on this trying 
occasion not to be thought of. Miss Jones, however, 
gets them out of their difficulty. She is now talking 
to Mrs. Fitzgerald. 

No ; she is not at all tired, she assures her ; and 
these delicious cakes and this nice creamy tea have 
quite refreshed her. No, she had not walked from 
the station, though if she had known The Hermitage 
was so near, . . . she had found an outside car. Oh, 
yes ! she quite liked outside cars. She had once 
lived for a whole month in Dublin and hadn’t died 
of it Tom thought she wanted to add this), and 
had there learnt how to sit on them. She thought 
them lovely. She thought a little view of the valley 
just below The Hermitage very lovely, too. Could 
she — might she go and see it now ? She had heard 
that Olivia — May I call you Olivia and Cissy ?” 
(another pretty little questioning smile) were going 
46 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


to an “ at home” of some sort, or was it a tourna- 
ment? No, no! they must go; it will make her 
wretched if they deny themselves this pleasure be- 
cause of her coming ; and perhaps She looks 

prettily at Mrs. Fitzgerald, and then at Laurence 
very directly, and finishes her sentence to him. Are 
you too going to this tournament ?” asks she. 

As it happens, Laurence is not. 

“ No,” returns he promptly. The worst has 
already come ; he now feels brave as a lion. That 
she is bent on carrying him off and having it out 
with him is his distinct conviction, which proves him 
a cleverer man than he had ever before believed him- 
self. 

“ Then perhaps you will take me to see this lovely 
view ?” 

He hails the thought with joy. This walk will 
give him the opportunity of explaining — though 
explanation can scarcely help him, and will probably 
redound to his great discredit; but at all events it 
will knock the bottom out of this abominable situa- 
tion. 

Mrs. Fitzgerald is quite pleased. 

“The prettiest view, Laurence, is from the hill; 
will you take Miss Jones ” 

^'Chloe!'" says Miss Jones with charming entreaty. 

“ Well” — ^smiling — “ take Miss Chloe, then, to the 
upper hill. The view is better from there.” 

Mrs. Fitzgerald, dear and hospitable woman as 
she is, is undoubtedly secretly charmed at getting rid 
of this so little expected guest for an hour or so. 
There are a few preliminaries to be gone through 
47 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


still — such as the final arrangement of rooms, the 
airing of sheets and blankets, the putting of a few 
flowers in the guest chambers — that are still undone. 
To-morrow they would all have been finished, but 
the guest had come before to-morrow was born. So 
with a relieved heart Mrs. Fitzgerald gladly speeds 
Laurence and this wonderful new Chloe to the upper 
hill. 

And so they go, Laurence and the wonderful new 
Chloe, through fields of growing grasses, and by 
streams bright with summer’s coming glories, by 
tall flags and floating lilies, to where the winds of 
heaven have fuller play. 

Up here a sweet and playful breeze, glad with the 
perfumes of the scented May, is filling all the land 
with happy sighs. Each bush, each tree, has life 
in it — a life apart from its own strenuous throb — 
branch and twig and monster stem is being crowded 
by tiny living things; and here is the stately elm, 
and here the homely laurel, and here, a little further 
up the hill, the whitethorn, now in its glory ; 


And in it 

Is lilting the linnet, 

Unstayed, unafraid.” 

Indeed, this evening, spring, that is so often gay, 
and sometimes so very sad, but never, never old, has 
put on its brightest colours, and looks beautiful 
exceedingly. To Laurence, in spite of the horrors 
of an hour ago, it seems fuller of life and hope, of 
fresh verdure, of splendid lights on hill and valley, 
than ever it has been before. 

48 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


The buoyant steps — buoyant and so untiring — of 
the so evidently town-bred girl beside him fill him 
with surprise. She has sprung up the rising ground 
with a glad vitality that gives him little chance of 
helping her over the innumerable boulders, the 
many awkward stiles, that lie in their way. 

Perhaps these difficulties, or the beauty of the 
dying day, have kept them silent — or is it their 
strangeness to each other ? But, at all events, not 
until the “ upper hill” is reached, and all the vast 
grandeur of the land below lies stretched before 
them, with the ocean gleaming dully in the fading 
light far, far away, does any word, beyond a bare 
fragmentary one here and there, break from them. 

It is he^ strangely enough, who speaks first. The 
ascent had been at the last a little steep — nay, very 
steep — yet she had disdained his assistance, spring- 
ing like a little sure-footed goat from rise to rise. 

“ I must congratulate you !” He turns to look at 
her. “ For a young lady who has lived in town a 
great deal, as you have done, such a mountain walk 
must be considered quite a feat.” 

'‘Yes.” She lets her voice die down, and looks 
deliberately on the splendid view before her. “ But 
you see I have not always lived in town. I have 
lived in London — it is London I suppose you mean ? 
— for six months only. You jump a little at con- 
clusions, don’t you ?” 

It is the simplest little remark. It may, indeed, 
mean anything or nothing ; but it makes Laurence’s 
blood run cold. He is wondering how he is to make 
his apology, when she goes on again. 

49 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ As a fact, I have lived all my life in the country, 
so, you see, I know as much about climbing as most 
people. Now I have answered your question. It” — 
with a little glance — “ was a question ?” 

“ I don’t think I meant it as such,” returns he 
quickly. “ At all events, I meant nothing that could 
annoy you.” 

‘‘Oh! why should it annoy me?” Then all at 
once she changes her manner so completely that he 
would scarcely have known the little half-amused 
person of a second ago. 

“ Whether or not you meant it, it was a question 1” 
Her tone is imperious. 

“ I can see how it seems to you. And though, as 
I have explained, I did not . . .” — stammering — “ I 
apologise for it.” 

“ You admit it was a question ?’* 

“ Certainly.” 

“ Then”— triumphantly— “ it is turn to ask you 
one now.” She lifts her face, and all at once he sees 
what a reckless, saucy, adorable thing it is. “ And 
as I have answered you, so you must answer me. 
That is, candidly, and to the point. You promise ?’* 

“ Yes, of course.” He knows he is saying some- 
thing, but in reality he is thinking of her, not of her 
words. 

“ Honest Indian ?” 

He laughs. “ Honest Indian.” 

“Well” — her smile now is a little malicious — 
“when, a little while ago, I arrived in Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald’s garden, what were you saying about me ? 
No denials 1” shaking her head virtuously. “ It was 
50 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

me of whom you were speaking. And what of 
me?” 

There is a lengthened silence ; Laurence has grown 
a dark red. So she Jtad heard, then ! 

‘‘ Well, honest Indian, what ?” Her tone is lightly 
mocking. Are you afraid to give it words ? * An 
adventuress,* was it not ? And why, O King ! must 
all people be regarded as lost beyond redemption just 
because they do not wish every vulgar detail of their 
lives to be known ? The Roman Catholics go into 
retreat at times, and no interviewers follow them. I 
am going into retreat now.*’ She steps back a little, 
defying him in a light way, and with that first touch 
of amusement on her lips. “ Are you to follow me 
with note-book and pencil ?” 

“ This is a little ungenerous, surely ?” says Lau- 
rence quickly. Of course, I quite understand that 
you heard what I said on your coming, and that 
you have remembered it against me. You should, I 
think, however, in common fairness, remember, tooy 
that when I spoke I had not seen you.” 

And having seen me ?” 

“I” — eagerly — ‘^of course believe in you. For 
all that, I know to my sorrow that you Will hate me 
from the hour of our first meeting to your dying 
one.” 

“ You think that ?” Chloe gives him a swift little 
glance; then looks down. Not a word from her, 
however ; and so they go on a little further up the 
hill, and over a stile somewhat entangled in a flower- 
ing briar. Chloe springs to the ground ; and then, 
as if something in the pretty first finger of her right 
4 SI 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


hand is troubling her, she lifts it to her lips. Indeed, 
it must greatly trouble her, because, as it reaches her 
lips, she says “ Ah quite audibly, if very softly. 

You have hurt yourself with one of those briars!” 
Laurence, as if seriously hurt himself, takes a step 
nearer to her. 

“ Oh, no, no 1 No, really it is nothing.” 

“ But why are you ” She is still pressing the 

little slender finger against her mouth, as if in sorrow 
for it. And all at once Laurence finds himself wish- 
ing that he was that finger. And of course, after 
thaty . . . descent to the lowest depths is easy. ** There 
must be a thorn in it.” 

“ I don’t think so, and it doesn’t hurt muchy^ says 
Chloe sweetly ; ‘‘ not so much as other things. Your 
disbelief in me, for one. But now you say you do 
believe in me ; still — how can I trust you ? And — 
and at all events you owe me something.” 

** I owe you an apology.” 

“ It shall be more than that.” 

“Yes; anything!” 

“Ah! what a splendid promise! But” — with 
pretty playfulness — “ how if I ask too much ? How 
if I ask you to be my friend — my real friend here ?” 

“ That is reward !” 

“ I am not fond of punishment,” says she wistfully. 
“ I have had too much of it myself, perhaps. Well,” 
holding out to him a small, cool hand, “you willy 
then ?” 

“ If you will let me.” He is holding the little hand 
now in a warmer grasp than he knows. However, 
she does. He is pledging himself — to what? He 
52 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


knows nothing of that either ; nor does he care ; the 
path before him seems so open, so free, so flower- 
filled, so easy of treading, whatever the end of it may 
be. “I don’t deserve it,” he goes on hurriedly. 
“ But — if you would let me explain to you. Miss 
Jones ” 

No, no ! Not Jones !” interrupts she, eagerly, 
impetuously, and with a quick frown. “ It is an odious 

name. I wonder I ever Call me anything but 

that ; even” — she looks at him carelessly, but very 
fair in the eyes, for all that, her charming mouth 
widening in laughter — Chloe !” 

shouldn’t dare,” returns he, laughing too, as 
though caught by the infection of her mirth. 

“ No ? not so much courage ? Well, as you will. 
And so you are my friend. But I won’t have any 
questions asked, remember. I hate them ; they are so 
rude. Come” — turning smartly and picking up the 
end of her gown — I’ll race you back to the house !” 

She makes a most unfair start, being round the 
corner almost before the words are out of her lips, 
and over that thorny stile : was her finger so much 
hurt, after all? as he follows he wonders at her. 
First a very dignified little lady ; then a coquette of 
the first water — he is quite wise enough to have 
recognised her as that — and now a born tomboy. 
What will be the next change ? 

The next change, indeed, finds her a most ordinary, 
happy, light-hearted girl, with whom Olivia and Cissy 
find it possible to be friends at once — a fact that 
takes a considerable amount of care off Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald’s shoulders. After all, Maud /lad done her a 
53 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


good turn. This bright, pretty creature — a little 
versatile, perhaps, but good (so evidently good to 
the heart’s core) — will be a real boon ; and her pretty 
society manners (Mrs. Fitzgerald had not seen that 
race with Laurence down the hill) will no doubt give 
a little touch to the girls, who have rather (well, very 
naturally, too) — rather countrified manners. And, of 
course, all that Tom had said this afternoon w^as non- 
sense. She remembers how he had insisted on big- 
amy. At this she laughs. She had twitted.him with 
his fears afterwards, and he had given in ; had even 
acknowledged the paying guest to be incapable of that, 
at all events ! She was too young,” he said ; he 
would not admit more than that ; but dear Tom was 
always a little pessimistic in his views of life, and 
people generally. 

Mrs. Fitzgerald, indeed, is delighted with Chloe. 
They have all called her Chloe from the first, as she 
wished ; and, indeed, none of them care for her more 
formal title. She herself evidently does not like it, 
and no wonder. 

“ And indeed, any name so utterly inappropriate 

” begins Mrs. Fitzgerald, sitting in the girls* 

room whilst they are brushing their hair, to discuss 
this new situation, as she always discusses everything, 
with them. Most girls go to their mother’s room on 
these occasions, but Mrs. Fitzgerald as often as not 
goes to theirs. There is no point laid down about it. 
It is a matter of chance in which room the little gos- 
sip is carried on. There is a fine spirit of camaraderie 
between this mother and her girls that keeps their 
hearts very close together. 

54 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


It’s absurd !” says Cissy. ** Jones ! The very 
last name I should have given her.” 

“ It is impossible even to think of her as Jones. Of 
course there are good Joneses and bad, but the name 
always reminds me of green grocers.” Olivia has 
begun to pull the hairpins out of her mother’s head 
now, her own hair being brushed. “ Come and sit 
over here, mama, and I’ll make you shine like satin. 
What lovely hair you have ! even more than Cissy. 
Do you know, I have been thinking ; and — and cer- 
tainly a great many people of good family marry be- 
neath them. Perhaps her mother ” 

“ Yes ; perhaps. And for money,” says Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald, a little dreamily. She had married for love, 
and where had it landed her ? She could have done 
the girls so much more good if she had married — 
well, someone who wasn’t poor George. And it 
wouldn’t have been marrying beneath her, either. 
But then another thought comes to her, and she 
brightens under it. After all, if she had, they 
wouldn’t be quite the same girls, and could there be 
others so dear, so good ? 

Anyway,” says Olivia, she is not going to marry 
for money. Mama, I am sure that what we said 
was true. She is running away from home to avoid 
marrying someone she hates.” 

And quite right, too,” says Cissy fervently. “ If 
it was my case. I’d run away like anything !” 

“ It is possible,” says Mrs. Fitzgerald thoughtfully. 
“ But I hope not ; I think not. Maud is a very careful 
woman. She would not let herself in for anything that 
might be scandalous.” She pauses, dwelling on her 
55 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


thoughts, and then : I think I will go to bed now, 
girls.’* 

Olivia has ceased to brush her hair, and has gath- 
ered the splendid mass, that even now has not a grey 
thread in it, into a loose and glistening knot. 

“ Oh, no, mama ! not for a little while ; we have 
got such a lot of things to say.” Evidently mama 
is the most interesting person to say them to ; and 
so she stays until Cissy suddenly falls asleep, and has 
to be waked up again ; and then both girls conduct 
their mother to her room, poke up her fire, which 
always burns there, because nights in May are chilly, 
and then leave her, after a good hug. 

They are all indeed specially happy to-night. 
They had dreaded the coming of Chloe, but now 
that she is among them they can look back on their 
fears with pleasure. Even old Feeney has accepted 
her — a great matter in the Fitzgerald household. 
Feeney, indeed, had “ tuk to her,” as she herself said, 
after the new-comer had been introduced to her in the 
schoolroom. 

‘‘ ’Tis all right she is !” said Feeney to her mistress 
later on. “A raal lady! Faith, ’twas ag’inst her 
cornin’ I was at fust, as ye know, ma’am. But, Miss 
Dora me dear, there’s blood in her I Arrah I no, 
ma’am! No Joneses for me! An’ the purty face 
of her ; an’ the smile at ye ; an’ the clothes on her 
back ! Glory !” 


56 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


CHAPTER VI. 

** Nor less I deem that there are powers 
Which of themselves our minds impress.” 

The sun is glinting hotly on the stone benches in 
the garden, and widening the hearts of the roses. 
May is no more ; her hour had come, 

To cease upon the midnight with no pain, 

and lo ! June in the morn lay smiling in her stead— 4 
blissful babe. 

It is languorously warm. The butterflies floating 
in mid-air seem drowsy on their fragile wings ; the 
flowers are drooping; the clean and shaven grass 
looks dry and parched ; the white lines on the tennis- 
courts are almost hurtful to the eye. From the 
many borders the warm perfume of mignonette, 
mingled with sweet pea, makes the air heavy. 

To-day Major O’Hara is ** at home.” Always on 
hospitable thoughts intent,” he has hailed the knowl- 
edge that this is the birthday of both Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald’s girls (curiously enough, the third of June, 
with two years between each third, had seen Cissy and 
Olivia come into the world) to give a rather special 
entertainment for their delight. For Olivia's delight, 
says the neighbourhood. 

Indeed, everyone is here. Lady Matilda Morne, 
tall and masculine ; Mr. Morne, small and ladylike ; 
Sir John and Lady Swinton, he, pale as a lemon, 
57 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


with queer-cut eyes, a good deal of greyish fairish 
hair, and a strong resemblance to the solemn goat ; 
she, dark, swarthy, and with her hair always at sixes 
and sevens ; the Hargreaves, the Blakes : Sir Har- 
dress, of course — and, in fact, all the people round, 
including even the new-comers who have just settled 
down at The Villa, Mrs. Longton and her daughter 
Cynthia — the latter as unlike what a Cynthia ought to 
be as one can possibly imagine. 

Mrs. Longton, who is a little effusive in manner, 
has come up to her host, seeing him standing some- 
what idly apart, with Sir Hardress and Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald beside him. 

Dear Major O’Hara,” says she, with the smile 
that she always believes in — as ” winning.” ” How de- 
lightful of you to give us such a charming after- 
noon !” She speaks quite as if Major O’Hara has 
had the ordering of the weather, and is to be thanked 
for the shining of the sun ; and as she smiles at him, 
she smiles at Sir Hardress too. She — although her 
daughter Cynthia is — well, never mind what age 
Cynthia is — has still hopes of a second union. 
There have been little unpleasant suggestions brought 
to her about Major O’Hara, of his going to destroy 
his life by marrying that silly girl; but Sir Har- 
dress — ah ! he is free as air, at all events. 

“Well, you see,” says the Major, in his friendliest 
way, “ this is an occasion on which I thought I ought 
to do something for ” 

He looks at Mrs. Fitzgerald, who smiles back at 
him. “ For Olivia,” he was evidently going to say, 
she tells herself. 


58 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


‘‘You see” — Mrs. Fitzgerald nods gaily at Mrs, 
Longton ; her gaiety is perhaps a little forced ; if he 
wants to marry Olivia, and if Olivia will not have 
him ! — “ you see” — with a somewhat strange smile — 
“to-day is the birthday of both Cissy and Olivia, 
and Major O’Hara has been so good as to give this 
charming party in their honour.” 

“ Ah, the birthday of your daughter Olivia !” says 
Mrs. Longton. 

“ The birthday of Cissy too !” puts in Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald, a little quickly — a little sharply, indeed. 
Mrs. Longton laughs inwardly. Trying to keep it 
dark, she tells herself, until it is un fait accompli; 
clever woman and one who has been — well, might 
have been — good-looking once. 

“ Ah — twins ?” remarks she leisurely. 

“ No, no !” smiling. “ Olivia is the elder by two 
years. But both were born on the third of June.” 

“ Very sensible of them ; and decidedly economi- 
cal !” says Sir Hardress, in his cold, unpleasant way. 
He is a tall, gaunt man of about sixty-five, with an 
expression as chilling as his tones. A hard-looking 
man, if handsome, with a perpetually sneering mouth. 
“One birthday party does for both. Hope they’ll 
get married on the same day too. Save expense.” 

The delightful sentiment conveyed in these words 
is met by a discreet silence by those around him, 
save on the part of Mrs. Longton. 

Dear Sir Hardress! What a naughty speech! 
But I can see you say it just for effect. Too bad of 
you, really! But we can read you” — shaking a 
coquettish forefinger at him— can read you! 

59 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


Now, what” — gushingly — “ can be more delightful 
than spending money on those we love ?” 

“ Quite so,” says Sir Hardress, glaring at the fore- 
finger. “ Fm with you there. I love myself. I spend 
all the money I have on that estimable person !” 

“ O cynic !” cries Mrs. Longton in a girlish way — 
she has not yet learned, as has been said, to regard 
herself as on the shelf — “ how you pose ! Don’t 
— dofUt pretend to me ! I can see through you ! 
And so it is the birthday of both your girls, Mrs. 
Fitzgerald ? How interesting ! Sweet of you, dear 
Major O’Hara, to inaugurate this little fete for them ! 
But for old friends one would do much. So curious, 
both the dear girls’ birthdays coming together. But 
it is not without precedent. There was an amusing 
little coincidence in my own family. In fact” — 
smiling broadly round her — “ I was born on my 
parents’ wedding day !” 

‘‘ Bless my soul !” says the Major involuntarily. 
The decidedly risque announcement has very natu- 
rally startled him. 

Mrs. Longton draws herself up. 

“ Two years later T' declares she, with much dig- 
nity, and a crushing glance. 

“Oh, of course, of course!” says the Major, who 
has grown a brilliant crimson. He is so confused, 
indeed, that he fails to see that the effect of his last 
words is but to increase the difficulty of the situation. 

“ I think. Sir Hardress, 1 should like to see what 
my dear girl is doing,” says Mrs. Longton ; whereon 
Sir Hardress, with a sour visage, conducts her across 
the lawn. 


6o 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


The poor Major, stricken with a sense of his 
criminality, hardly dares to look at Mrs. Fitzgerald 
as they depart. What a deucedly unlucky exclama- 
tion of his ! And if he had only thought for a 
moment. But, by Jove ! it sounded so odd ! and — 
well, he had been coarse, by Jove ! — indelicate, they’d 
call him ; and Dora 

A little stifled sound from Dora brings his eyes 
on her. She is laughing — nay, I regret to say, she 
is convulsed with laughter. 

** You have done it this time !” cries she. ** Come 
and sit here” — patting the stone bench on which she 
is sitting — and recover yourself. She’ll never for- 
give you, James. You have made an enemy for life of 
the lovely Longton. Come” — patting the stone 
afresh — ‘‘ and receive my commiserations.” 

*^Oh, I say! you know,” says the Major, quite 
bashfully, didn’t think. And honestly, Dora, 
’twas a confoun — er — funny thing to say, eh ? And 
she ” 

** Neither it nor she are worth a second thought. 
Don’t give them one.” 

Do you know,” says Major O’Hara, with a sigh 
of relief, seating himself beside her, ‘‘you are the 
most comfortable person I know I” 

“ Comforting, I hope you mean,” says she ; and 
then they both laugh. Dear Olivia, what a kind, 
good-tempered husband she will have, thinks Mrs. 
Fitzgerald, if only she will have him. 

The Major has seated himself on the stone bench 
as desired ; he had done it gladly, poor man, with 
a view to coolness on this broiling day, only to find 

6i 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


out his mistake a little later on. The cool stone 
bench is a delusion and a snare ; it is, indeed, as hot 
as a fiery sun can make it. But, he tells himself, 
if Dora can bear it, he can ; and besides, she is the 
pleasantest woman he knows. During a little pause 
in their talk Chloe happens to cross the ground be- 
neath them — Chloe, in a little simple Parisian gar- 
ment, that had cost a good deal more than anyone 
here to-day could know. A little delicate confection 
of muslin and lace, girlish — almost childish, indeed 
— and with a big hat of the same simple kind upon 
her head. The hat alone had cost five guineas. 
Laurence is on her right side; the curate, Mr. 
Gossler, on her left. 

“ Oh, there is Chloe !” says Mrs. Fitzgerald. 

How dear she is ! Have you noticed her little 
pretty ways — her deprecating air — the desire to be 
nice to everyone ?” 

“I have,” says Major O’Hara. “I’m afraid — I 
hope you won’t be angry with me, Dora — but I’m 
afraid she’s a little too nice to the curate !” 

“ Oh, no ! really, she hardly looks at him. What 
I am afraid is that Laurence . . . he seems very — very 
—well, almost devoted, don’t you think ? and, as I 
told you, w^e have every reason to believe that she 
has left a most cruel guardian, who wanted her to 

marry a man for his money ” She stops, as if 

struck by some sudden, conflicting thought. 

“That would be bad,” says the Major genially. 
“ To marry for money only — that would be a great 
mistake.” 

“Well” — Mrs. Fitzgerald’s throat feels a little dry 
62 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


— if Olivia consents to marry him / — ** well, you see, 
we don’t know everything ; but it certainly seems as 
if she was being forced into a most undesired mar- 
riage before she came here, when all the time she 
was in love with someone else. She hasn’t said a 
word ; in fact, she declines to speak ; and who would 
wish to break through such a reserve as that ? But 
I am sure she is in love with someone far away from 
this; someone who is not the curate — poor Mr. 
Gossler! — or Laurence — or — anyone here. I quite 
believe in her; I do really; though of course we 
don’t at all know who she is — or what.’* 

She certainly does not know. Even now — now^ 
when Chloe has been with her for quite a month. 
The charming guest had been introduced to all the 
neighbourhood as a cousin of Mrs. Gilbert’s, and 
thus, in a way, a cousin of Mrs. Fitzgerald’s, and had 
been accepted with effusion. Mrs. Fitzgerald had 
given in very unwillingly to this direction of Mrs. 
Gilbert’s to receive Chloe as her cousin, but she had 
given in, and the cousin thus introduced had proved 
an overwhelming success. Even the women like her, 
and as for the men 

Laurence Lloyd, amongst these last, is considered 
by the men most confoundedly lucky. Miss Jones 
has shewn a decided preference for him as a partner 
for tennis or for lawn golf beyond all others. 

Ah ! she’s told you nothing yet, then ?” says the 
Major. 

‘‘ Not a word. But somehow I’m sure she’s all 
right. Look at her now, down there.” In the 
tennis-court below, Chloe, with Laurence alone be- 
63 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


side her now, is about to begin a game. ** Is she 
not pretty ? She is going to play against Tom and 
Olivia.” 

I suppose so. But I wish I knew who she really 
is. And for the matter of that, Olivia is quite as 
pretty as ever she was.” 

Oh, Olivia — a little country girl !” says Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald hurriedly. Is he going to speak ? “ But 

Chloe — I can’t help thinking she has come to us 
from far more fashionable circles than we shall ever 
see. Have you noticed her pretty little phrases — the 
delicate turns of her speech ?” 

“Yes, yes,” says the Major abstractedly. He is 
looking at this idealised Chloe down there on the 
tennis-ground. “Who the deuce,” says he, all at 
once, “ does she remind me of?” He leans forward, 
scrutinising Miss Jones from afar, and wrinkling up 
his brows as if in deep thought. “ Who zs she like, 
eh?” 

“ Like?” 

“ Yes. Someone, someone ; but I can’t place her. 
And yet she does remind me of ” 

“She has a little look of Bessie Moore, hasn’t 
she ?” 

“ May have” — courteously. “ But it is not Bessie 
Moore I mean. It’s something about the mouth. 
Now, who on earth is it ?” 

“ So many people nowadays are so like somebody 
else,” says Mrs. Fitzgerald carelessly. 

“ It’s some ma/z, I think, whom she resembles.” 

“Oh, my dear James! a less masculine-looking 
girl I never saw.” 


64 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ Certainly, certainly !” says the Major vaguely. 
He is still searching his memory. 

“ She is very delightful to live with,” Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald goes on, ‘‘ and so cheerful in the house. We 
all like her more than I can say, and she seems to 
have settled down very contentedly in our dull midst, 
though from certain signs I am sure she has lived in 
far gayer circles. Her clothes point to a very fashion- 
able existence.” 

“ And you know nothing of her, you tell me ?” 

Mrs. Fitzgerald shakes her head, blushing faintly. 

I don’t really ; and I don’t seek to know. I have 
taken her on Maud Gilbert’s word, and I am sure 
Maud would not give me away.” 

“Rash — decidedly rash,” says the Major. “To 
take anyone’s word for anything at this time of day 
is sheer madness.” He says this with what he fondly 
believes to be a distinctly worldly sort of air, though • 
as a matter of fact he himself believes blindly in 
everybody. “ I declare, Dora, you want somebody 
to look after you — ^badly !” 

She laughs. 

“ Well, I’ve got Miss Jones now. Perhaps she will 
look after me.” 

“ Take my advice, and look after her.” 

“ Oh, come now, James, this is a little too much. 
You, who have been so charming to her ever since 
she came !” 

“ Oh, she’s a very nice little girl, beyond doubt — 
so far as one knows.” Here the Major grows care- 
ful. “ But I can’t help looking after my old friends. 
Now, for example, what have you to shew that she 

65 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

is not a first-class adventuress — that she will ever 
pay you a penny of the money promised ?” 

“ James ! There you wrong her indeed. She has 
paid me. She insisted on paying the first quarter in 
advance. And of course the money was very wel- 
come. It arranged the rent and other things. You 
see” — colouring warmly — “ I speak to you as a 
friend.” 

” No, you don’t,” says the Major irately. If I 
were a fellow’s friend I’d tell him when I was bothered 
about a few trifling things, a few absurd debts. But 
you ” 

Well, I have told you now.” 

“ Yes, now. But you might have told me sooner !” 
with a touch of kindly reproach. 

No, no. That would be worse.” 

Worse ? To be under a slight compliment to me ?” 

“ To anyone. Better endure a shock to one’s pride 
than ” 

“ Than take a little help from the oldest friend you 
have. You call that pride ; I call it incivility. I do, 
on my honour, Dora.” 

“ Well” — laughing — don’t let us quarrel about it. 
What do you think of her ?” 

“ Pretty girl, certainly ; but, as I have already told 
you, not so much to my taste as — as” — quickly — 
‘‘ Olivia.” 

‘‘ Yes ?” Mrs. Fitzgerald’s heart is beating rapidly. 
As Olivia ! And if Olivia refuses him, will there be 
a breach between her (Olivia’s) mother and this old 
friend for ever ? 

“ But certainly pretty, and with charming manners. 

66 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

Can be even civil to an old buffer like me. Now” 
— again catching sight of Chloe, who is coming 
towards them with some of the others — ” who is she 
like ? By George, I have it ! A little girl I used to 
know — ten — twelve years ago — oh ! somewhere in 
the Dark Ages. There is something about the 
mouth — that little girl married. Well, IVe caught 
the resemblance ; I hope when Miss Chloe marries 
she will do better.” 

** The other ?” 

Married very badly, in a sense. She Oh 1 

here you are. Miss Chloe!” The Major always 
calls her ** Miss Chloe.” Come and sit down and 
rest yourself after your late fatigues. I saw you 
fighting most gallantly. Laurence and you won, I 
think ?” 

“ Yes, she beat us,” says Olivia. ‘‘ We hadn’t a 
chance.” 

Not a look in !” says Tom. They have all come 
up. 

No, no, thank you, I shan’t sit down,” says Chloe, 
whose blue eyes are now almost black with the ex- 
citement of the game. I am not fatigued. I have 
won ; I feel fresh and strong.” The light of battle is 
indeed still shining in those splendid eyes. She is 
holding her racquet in both hands, and her whole 
pose is charming ; Laurence, a little away from her, 
is studying her with a gaze that is ardent. 

** I have heard some news, mama,” says Olivia, 
turning to her mother. ^*Mrs. Longton has just 
told me. You know the old shooting lodge at 
Carrig — it has been taken by some Englishman, and 
5 67 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

he is coming here ; in fact, he has come. He came 
last night.” 

But, my dear, for what ? — with no shooting until 
August.” 

Fishing, I believe. You know the Carrig river 
is splendid for salmon ; and later on there will be 
very good shooting too. He has taken all the 
Carrig mountains, and all the lower lands besides.” 

“ What an excitement !” says Chloe, laughing. 

“ Well, it is !” Olivia laughs too. “ A stranger — 
a stranger is the thing. See what an excitement you 
were when you first came !” 

A transient one.” 

“ Far from that,” says Tom. “ Don’t decry your- 
self. Transitory glory is a poor thing. Now me you 
strike as an excitement likely to be eternal ! That is 
a compliment, I assure you !” 

“ I don’t think I want to be an immortal,” says 
Chloe, with a little shrug. “ They must have been 
so frightfully bored, poor things ! — the same scenes 
over and over again.” 

“What is the name of the new tenant for The 
Lodge ?” Mrs. Fitzgerald is asking Olivia. “ And is 
he going to have it done up? It is habitable, of 
course, but greatly in disrepair.” 

“ It will be a godsend to the idle workmen in the 
village,” says the Major. “ They have been out of 
employment for some time, many of them. The 
Lodge is bigger than its name, and there is certainly 
a good deal of painting and papering to be done, if 
nothing else.” 

“ Well, but what is his name ?” asks Tom idly, 
68 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

who had heard Mrs. Fitzgerald’s question of a mo- 
ment ago. 

Something beginning with C,” says Laurence. 
“ Caxton was it, Olivia ?” 

No. Carlton — Granby Carlton.” 

There is a little crash, a little subdued cry ; Miss 
Jones’ racquet has fallen to the ground. She is now 
bending down to pick it up, and Tom and Laurence 
have come to her help. Presently she lifts her head 
and smiles at Tom in her usual pretty, airy fashion. 

“ I am afraid I must have gone to sleep !” says 
she gaily. It slipped out of my fingers. Ah ! 
this is what comes of being inactive on a warm 
day. Sluggard!” — turning a reproachful gaze on 
Laurence — “you too are half asleep! Wake from 
thy slumbers, and come and have a round of golf 
with me.” 

“ Asleep I Is thy servant a dog?” cries Laurence, 
and together they disappear into the cool hall out- 
side to get their sticks. 

“ This new neighbour,” asks Chloe, as they are 
selecting their clubs from the stand — “he will be 
amusing, perhaps. Where is this Lodge they speak 
of — near this ?” 

“ No ; much nearer The Hermitage,” says Lau- 
rence. “ Too near The Hermitage” — laughing, but 
watching her very anxiously all the time — “ for my 
taste.” 

“Why?” Chloe lifts her eyes for a second — a 
second only — from the golf stick she is examining, 
as has been said. “ What are you afraid of?” Her 
eyes have gone back to the stick, but they have left 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

their work behind them. Laurence lays his hand 
on hers. 

“Of you.” His tone is quick, eager, impas- 
sioned. 

“That is so stupid,” says she calmly. With 
perfect calmness, too, she shakes his hand from hers. 
“ Let us be rational. And so The Lodge is near 
us?” 

“ About a mile and a half away.” His tone now 
is cold and resentful. “ You saw it the other day 
when coming from the Castle.” 

“ That old place ?” thoughtfully ; and then : “ Quite 
a journey ! and yet” — with a swift glance at him — a 
saucy, provocative glance — “ too near for your taste, 
it seems. Would you put one, then, in a donjon 
keep, like the tyrants of old ?” 

“ I would put you in my heart,” says he lightly ; 
but surely there is a terrible longing behind that 
lightness. 

“ You would ? Does that mean that you havetCtf 
Oh, Laurence! No, no; not a step nearer — not 
one! Have you got your putter? Yes? Then 
come on.” 


CHAPTER VII. 

“ The weariness, the fever, and the fret.” 

“ Don’t go for a moment or two,” whispers Major 
O’Hara in a hurried aside to Mrs. Fitzgerald, as he 
is speeding the last of his guests. It is consider- 
70 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


ably later, and, indeed, quite six o’clock ; although 
the sun is not flaunting so gaily up above as it did 
an hour ago, still, the splendid heat remains, and 
the gardens are in a glow. 

“ I’ve got a little present for the girls,” says the 
Major presently, leading her back to the library, 
where Olivia and Cissy, with Tom and Laurence 
Lloyd, are chatting over the day. Chloe had some- 
how contracted a bad headache earlier, and had 
gone home in Mrs. Longton’s carriage without dis- 
turbing anybody. She had, indeed, begged Mrs. 
Fitzgerald to say nothing. Just a little trifle, you 
know, to remember the day by.” 

The little trifles resolve themselves into a charm- 
ing gold butterfly for Cissy’s hair and a still more 
charming jewelled bangle for Olivia. It is impossi- 
ble not to see that Olivia’s present is, if not the 
prettier, the more expensive of the two. Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald at all events sees it, and her expression grows 
grave. It is really serious, then. This bangle is a 
distinct leading up to the final issue. 

Cissy, like the child she is, is openly enchanted 
with her pretty new possession. She runs up to 
Major O’Hara, who is beaming in his kindly way 
upon her. 

“ Oh ! how good — how lovely of you !” She 
hesitates for a second; then, encouraged by the 
pleased light in his eyes, she suddenly slips an arm 
round his neck, pulls down his head, and gives him 
a most honest kiss. The Major returns it affection- 
ately. 

“ Well now, ’pon my word,” says he, “ I’m glad 

71 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


you like it!” They can all see that he is indeed 
most genuinely gratified. And you, Olivia ?” turn- 
ing to her genially. Mrs. Fitzgerald’s face pales. 
What will Olivia do ? Will she ? 

Evidently Olivia will. Olivia, indeed, goes for- 
ward at once, and lifts a calm, a cold, if beautiful 
face to the Major’s caress — to her mother’s intense 
surprise — to, perhaps, her mother’s regret. For 
though Mrs. Fitzgerald has always told herself that 
she is willing, indeed anxious, that Olivia should 
accept Major O’Hara, should he propose to her (as 
there seems little doubt that he will do), still she 
feels her heart sink within her as Olivia lifts her face 
to his. Is her pretty girl being forced in spite of 
herself to do some little act that will implicate her — 
compel her later on to marry a man she does not 
love? 

She takes comfort in the thought that after all 
Olivia is only doing what Cissy has already done. 
A little formal kiss like that commits one to nothing. 
And she had watched, and certainly the kiss that 
James had given Olivia was in no wise warmer than 
that he had given to Cissy. This fact, in some 
strange way, lightens her heart and takes the press- 
ure off it. However desirous a mother may be of 
marrying her daughter well, at certain moments she 
has qualms about uniting her to a man, if that man 
happens to be twice her daughter’s age, and a little 
bit over. Still, in spite of that feeling of renewed 
lightness, Mrs. Fitzgerald is conscious of a touch 
of anger towards Olivia. Why — if, as Olivia has 
always insisted, she is unwilling to marry Major 
72 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

O’Hara — why did she take such a forward step as 
to let him kiss her cheek ? 

As a fact, Olivia under the circumstances might 
have distinctly refused — in a laughing, courteous 
fashion, of course — to let the Major kiss her cheek ; 
but her glance at the moment happened to light on 
Tom, and rest there. Tom’s face — his whole air, 
indeed — was eloquent. The queer mocking light in 
his eyes that of late had so enraged her was in full 
blaze then, and there was a half-smile upon his mouth 
that seemed to say : 

** Go on. Don’t hesitate ; he’s got lots of money.” 

That drove her angrily forward to an open defiance 
of his sneering thoughts. And — well — the little 
scene is all over now. 

Mrs. Fitzgerald has been thanking the Major, in 
her gentle way, for his kindness to her girls. Such 

charming gifts ! such kind thoughts ! and “ Yes ; 

we must go now, really.” 

Not so soon. What a hurry you are in !” says 
the hospitable Major. “ I wish you would all stay 
and dine with me. Bachelor establishment, unfor- 
tunately.” He looks straight at Mrs. Fitzgerald, who 
colours and laughs, feeling as if already she is receiv- 
ing a proposal for Olivia’s hand. “But I daresay 
the cook — No ? No, you won’t really ? Won’t take 
pity on me ? At all events, let me shew you my new 
tea roses before you go.” 

Cissy, with Laurence, has gone out to the avenue 
to wait for Mrs. Fitzgerald’s old pony and very old 
phaeton, and Olivia, seeing her mother disappear with 
Major O’Hara into the conservatory, turns to Tom. 

73 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

What did you mean/’ asks she imperiously, a 
moment ago?” 

“ Mean ?” says Tom with abominable coolness ; “ I 
don’t follow you. Did I really mean something? 
I’m awfully sorry, I’m sure.” 

“Don’t look at me Tike that, Tom; you know 
very well you meant something.” 

“ You flatter me greatly !” He regards her with 
unmistakable gratitude. “As a rule I find myself 
regarded by my friends as an utterly meaningless 
person.” 

“ Oh ! if you are ashamed of it !” 

“Of what, my dear girl? You leave me so en- 
tirely in the dark that ” 

“ You think I am mercenary !” says she, flashing a 
glance of passionate anger at him, that leaves him 
unmoved. 

“Well?” 

“ You don’t deny it, then? You don’t even deny 
it? You really think me that? You think — that 
I ” She breaks away from her vehement be- 

ginning. “ I don’t care” — superbly — “ what you 
think !” 

“Quite so,” says Tom agreeably. “I always 
understood that.” 

“ Oh I” cries Olivia, with unutterable scorn, stamp- 
ing her pretty foot upon the carpet. Then, facing 
him with a sudden change of air : “ Cissy kissed him 
too !” 

“ I’m sure I never said she didn’t,” says Tom, 
drawing up his brows. 

“ I know what you think,” pursues Olivia, still in 
74 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


a white heat of wrath. You think he has money, 
and that I want to marry him for that.” 

** My dear girl, you wrong my naturally extremely 
good powers of observation. I don’t think for a 
moment you wan^ to marry the admirable, if slightly 
elderly, Major, but I think you are going to do it all 
the same — and for his money, as you suggest.” 

Miss Fitzgerald seats herself on a low chair, and 
casts a look at him meant to wither. She tells her- 
self she is perfectly calm, perfectly indifferent, and 
that it would be absurd of her to feel any sort of 
anger towards a person of Tom’s hateful tempera- 
ment. And indeed, beyond the fact that the one 
pretty foot she has crossed over the other is beating 
a somewhat alarming tattoo upon the floor, she is 
quite calm — outwardly. 

** I understand you so well, Tom,” says she. 
“Your odious nature is quite clear to me. You 
hoped to put me in a rage with your detestable in- 
sinuations, but after all it is j/ou who are in a rage. 
You fancy you are concealing it — and, indeed, you 
might conceal it from anyone else — but I know you, 
and all your horrid ways, and I can read quite plainly 
in your ill-natured eyes this moment, that you are 
consumed by anger.” 

This awful tirade, delivered in the lowest, the 
sweetest of voices, is received by Tom unflinchingly. 

“ So I am,” returns he with noble honesty. “ And 
no wonder too. You are right, Olivia ; I believe you 
are the only person on earth who can read me as I 
am. It’s so awfully clever of you, too, because T’m 
deep — profoundly deep.” 


75 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


** Oh ! you can laugh it off if you like !’* says Miss 
Fitzgerald contemptuously. “ But you are in a bad 
temper for all that.” 

” I have acknowledged it ; what more do you want ? 
As to laughing anything off, I’m not in the humour 
for it. Honestly, Olivia” — here he approaches her 
with a somewhat magisterial air — I feel I have a 
grievance — a grievance against you.” 

“ Against me f ” 

“ Certainly against you. What I object to is your 
injustice, your different ways of treating your 
different friends.” 

“ What are you talking about, Tom ?” 

“ Well, look here. This is your birthday. I sent 
you a little present this morning; the elderly Major 
gave you a present just now. The Major's reward 
for his gift was immensely in excess of the gift itself ; 
mine was a severe lecture. I call that unfair. If we 
are both your friends, you should be equally kind to 
both. If you kiss the Major, I don’t really see why 
you should not kiss me.” He stops. 

Miss Fitzgerald rises. 

“ There was one thing, Tom, I did acquit you of,” 
says she, moving with dignity to the door. 

“ One — one vice. You have let me off one !" says 
Tom, following her. “ Oh, Olivia !” catching her hand 
as she is opening the door, and holding it, “ don't go 
before you tell me its name. Believe me, I shall try 
to be a better man ; I shall reform ; I shall attend the 
Rector’s night classes; I shall even go in for the 
sewing guild if only you will tell me the name of the 
one vice from which you deem me free.” 

76 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


Olivia drags her hand out of his. 

She says in a low tone, and with sharp contraction 
of her brows, “ How can you go on like that ? If 
you will know, I have found out that you can be 
vulgar! I” — coldly — ‘^have found out something 
else too, and quite lately I that I — hate you !” 

And I ?” says Tom. He is holding the door. 

“ Oh, you !” She shrugs her shoulders. I have 
known for a long time that you hate me.” 

“ Ah I” Tom’s eyes meet hers. “ That ends the 
matter, of course. As you say, you are the one 
person in the world who thoroughly understands 
me.” 

All the way home Olivia, in spite of the fact that 
she has so successfully routed Tom, is very silent. 
So, indeed, is Mrs. Fitzgerald. The two little scenes 
in the library have disturbed them both to their hearts* 
cores. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Where but to think is to be full of sorrow 
And leaden-eyed despair.” 

Olivia, once at home and in her own room, gives 
way to thoughts many and depressing. To her, as 
to some others, it now seems quite clear that the 
terror she had regarded as far off is very close at 
hand. Major O’Hara is certainly going to ask her 
to be his wife, and she — what answer will she give ? 

In any other circumstances she would have laughed 
77 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


away the Major’s pretensions ; have treated them with 
a light heart, and in a very kindly fashion, because 
she is extremely fond of him, as a friend, an old friend, 
a — with emphasis — very old friend. But now, sunk 
as she and her sister and her mother are in absolute 
poverty (genteel poverty, that worst of all hardships), 
how can she bring herself to refuse an offer that will 
mean joy and comfort to the two who are so dear 
to her ? Oh ! she must — she must accept him ! And 
yet 

Of course, it isn’t as if she disliked him ; she is, 
indeed, quite fond of Major O’Hara. Everyone is 
fond of him, for the matter of that. She tries to get 
up her courage on this point, but fails. To be fond 
of a man old enough to be your father is one thing, 
to marry him another — another against which her 
young soul revolts. 

She honestly does like Major O’Hara — could like 
him very much better, she tells herself, but for the 
wretched fact that he is in love with her. An old 
man’s darling! The words are often in Olivia’s 
mouth now, and always fill her with a sort of sup- 
pressed but raging anger, against herself — against 
the whole wide world — her own small world. If 
they had not been so poor, who would have dreamt 
of her marrying this middle-aged man — this kind, 
delightful, and very desirable middle-aged man, con- 
sidering his position, and his place, and his rent-roll, 
and all the rest of it — but an elderly man, for all 
that ? Put the whole thing together, and it seems to 
Olivia a small gain — put against her youth and her 
hitherto happy, careless existence. 

78 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


Yet to live your life, and die always, always poor, 
is dreadful too. And a very sturdy factor for the 
Major lies in the knowledge that marriage with him 
will mean rest from all her troubles for her mother — 
the dear, dear mother who is as much a friend and 
sister to her as a parent. 

*:J«:<«***:j£* 

It is later, and Cissy has come in now, and is 
talking it over. Cissy is delightful ; so earnest, so 
sympathetic. 

‘‘I don’t think mama would wish anything that 
would make you unhappy,” she is saying, when 
** mama’s” step is heard in the corridor outside. 

Olivia herself runs to the door and throws it open. 

“ Oh, mama ! there you are ! Come in, come / ” 
pulling her mother into the room and closing the 
door behind her. ^^I’m afraid. I’m really afraid, 
mama, that what you have been saying about 
Major O’Hara is coming true. I’m sieve now he 
really wants to marry me, and — and — I don’t know 
what to do. Of course — we are so poor that — I 
know what I ought to do ; but what do you think, 
mama ?” 

Oh, darling, what a hard question !” says Mrs. 
Fitzgerald. She has grown very pale. Her heart 
seems torn to pieces. “ I wouldn’t coerce you ; you 
know that, don’t you ? But he is so well off, and a 
good man, Olivia ! A really good man, and so kind, 
so generous, if a little old for you. And besides” — 
a heavy sigh breaks from her — dearest, you know 
what poverty means.” 

Oh, yes, I know,” says Olivia impatiently. Then, 
79 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

suddenly : I wish I liked him as well as you do, 
mama.” 

Mrs. Fitzgerald’s charming face grows pink. 

“Of course I like him. He is a dear friend. 
And what I think is that I could trust your happi- 
ness to him, if — if you thought you could — 
could ” 

“ He’s so old,” says Cissy blankly. 

« Old — no !” says her mother. “ Not really old. 
A very handsome man still. Old to a child like you, 
perhaps, but a man in the prime of life, and very 
handsome, as I have said.” 

“ Handsome !” 

“ Extremely so, I think,” 

A little silence, which Olivia breaks. 

“ I wish,” says she with a sigh, “ that he wanted to 
marry you, mama. You seem to see his points.” 

“ Me !” says Mrs. Fitzgerald ; “ an old woman like 
me !” She colours, and a slight frown settles on her 
forehead. Really, this is a little rude of Olivia. 
“ What nonsense ! I put marriage out of my head — 
marriage with anyone — long years ago.” 

“Somebody’s loss,” says Cissy sweetly, slipping 
her arm round her mother’s neck. 

“ I don’t know. Marriage is such a lottery ; you 
never can tell what you may draw. But” — a little 
sadly — “ for all that, I have sometimes thought that 
I made a mistake in remaining single. Looking 
back on the years ever since you were born, I can 
count many a good marriage I could have made and 
did not. Perhaps I was wrong. I should have con- 
sidered you two more than I did.” 

So 


THE COMING OF CFILOE 


You couldn’t have done that!” breaks in Olivia 
vehemently. 

“ I am not sure.” Olivia’s mother looks like 
Olivia’s sister now, as she lets her mind wander into 
the sweet and pleasant paths of the past ** I had 
several very good offers, when” — laughing somewhat 
tearfully — “ I was younger and lovelier, but ” 

“ Why didn’t you accept them ?” Cissy grows 
curious. 

“ Well, there was the memory of your poor father 
for one thing.” 

She stops, and some emotion, born of the happy 
past, floods her beautiful eyes. “ But do you know, 
I sometimes think now that he would have wished 
me to marry again — to make a more comfortable 
home for his two pretty girls.” She smiles at them 
through her tears. 

“ Mama, what nonsense I” cries Cissy sturdily. 
** The home here that we have with you is the most 
comfortable, the happiest one in the world.” 

** Too happy,” says Olivia with a sigh that is 
almost a groan. To leave it, with all its love and 
content, to gain even the Major’s undoubted wealth, 
seems a very poor exchange indeed. 

“ Well, all that is over and done with,” says Mrs. 
Fitzgerald, thinking of her bygone chances. “ I am 
quite an old lady now.” 

‘‘ You look a great deal younger than Mrs. Mor- 
land, who is only just married,” says Cissy, with a 
sort of loving indignation. 

“ Oh, well, perhaps” — smiling — “ I don’t look ex- 
actly an octogenarian, but I’m forty-two, anyway, 

8i 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


and that is as much as one wants to be. However, 
that’s enough of me. Olivia darling, can you not 
see your way to this ?” 

Olivia remains silent. 

“ Say no at once,” entreats her mother earnestly. 
But Olivia says nothing. 

“Why don’t you speak, Olivia?” cries Cissy. 
“ He is an old man ; you know he is. I can’t see 
why you hesitate.” 

“ Certainly not an old man,” repeats her mother, 
now in her gentle way a little excited. “ You girls 
think everyone over twenty-five perfect Methuse- 
lahs ! Major O’Hara isn’t so very old, if it comes 
to that. A little older than me, perhaps, but ” 

“ Oh, mama !” There is a little burst of derisive 
affectionate laughter. Cissy falls back in her chair, 
cocks up one charming foot, and gives way to un- 
timely mirth. “ You — you to tell such a story!” 

“ It’s true, though 1” declares Mrs. Fitzgerald 
eagerly. “ He and I were boy and girl together.” 

“ Girl and very old boy, you mean !” Cissy is 
revelling in the situation. 

“ No, not at all ! I am forty-two, as you know, 
and he ” 

“ Is ninety — in comparison.” 

“Forty-nine!” with decision. “A very slight 
difference, as you can see. And of course, a man 
in the forties, whatever a woman may be, is not 
old.” 

How she defends his age ! how she wishes me to 
marry him ! thinks Olivia. Darling mama ! it is 
only because she wishes to see me happy — as if riches 
82 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


make happiness! . . . Rebellion, however, is rife 
within her, in spite of these tender thoughts. 

“ Forty-nine sounds well enough,’* says she 
gloomily; ‘‘but another year, or perhaps a few 
months, and it will be fifty 1” 

“Yes, yes; I see your argument.” Mrs. Fitzger- 
ald’s tone is very sad. She pauses. “ If there was 
another chance for you I would say nothing. Believe 
that, Olivia. But in this dull neighbourhood — oh ! 
if I had money I could take you into the world, and 
there” — fondly — “you might both have had your 
choice. But as it is — well, as it is, I can do nothing. 
You” — dejectedly — “ must forgive me that.” 

“Oh, come now, mama!” says Cissy. “That’s 
ungrateful of you, if you like, to pretend to mis- 
understand in that silly way !” She catches her pretty 
mother and pulls her round smartly, and makes a 
little gesture, as if to threaten her with untold 
punishments for her bad behaviour. 

Mrs. Fitzgerald laughs ; her ill-humours are ever 
but shadows of the real thing. 

“ That’s all very well,” says she, “ but with regard 
to Major O’Hara ” 

“ We know it all,” interrupts Olivia, who too is 
now laughing. “ He is the handsomest man in the 
world, and the youngest — and he is about your own 
age, and looks . . . like your grandfather !” 

Mrs. Fitzgerald, in spite of the issue at stake, is 
undoubtedly pleased at this compliment. 

“ Oh ! Grandfather !” protests she. 

“Well, an exaggeration, perhaps. But you say 
you grew up with him, mama. I find it hard to 
6 83 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


believe it ; but if that is true, I don’t think I want to 
marry a man who is old enough to be my father !” 

A soft flush rises to Mrs. Fitzgerald’s face ; she 
hardly understands why it rises. 

“ I know, I know,” she answers hurriedly. And 
you must not think of it, dearest, if it distresses 
you. The only thing is that he is kind and good, 
and” — with a sigh — “we are so poor; and when I 
die ” 

“ Good gracious, mama !” cries Cissy almost furi- 
ously, “ what is the good of talking like that ?” 

The pretty, girlish face is frowning, and behind the 
frown lies pain. “ Why, you are as young as either 
of us ! When you die” — with a rather nervous little 
laugh — “ we shall die too, and go with you wherever 
you go. We couldn’t live without you !” 

“ Dear idiot !” says Mrs. Fitzgerald, her tone a warm 
caress. 

“I suppose,” says Olivia dismally, “that in the 
long run I shall marry him.” Her face has grown 
quite miserable. 

“ Olivia ! I won’t let you look like that !” cries Mrs. 
Fitzgerald quickly. She goes to the girl and draws 
her to a seat beside her. “Put it all out of your 
head, my sweetheart. I am a wretched, worldly old 
mother, and think of nothing but the future for my 
girl. No, no ; there are better things than money. 
And you are right. Major O’Hara is a great deal 
too old for you.” 

“ Still,” says Olivia, moving a little restlessly be- 
neath her mother’s gentle hold, “ I don’t want to be 
poor always. One must live ; and if one can’t have 
84 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

love” — she stops abruptly ; her eyes grow large and 
introspective — one may as well have ” 

‘‘ Not money only — no !” interrupts Mrs. Fitzgerald 
quickly. “ I can’t bear to think I have taught you 
that lesson, Olivia. What I thought — what I meant 
was, that when there was no one else, and he was so 
generous, so desirable — indeed, so charming — in 
many ways — that perhaps you might bring yourself 
in time to love him. It is not so very impossible. 
Look at Lady Dovedale ; she is quite twenty years 
her husband’s junior, and was there ever so happy a 
pair ? But that is nothing ! Give up all thought of 
him, dearest. Shew him what you mean. Be cold 
to him.” 

“ Oh, I have been cold. But it doesn’t seem to do 
any good.” 

” That shews how very much in love he is with 
you,” says her mother thoughtfully. She sits silent 
for a moment or two, staring before her. 

“ Well” — with a sharp sigh — is it not well to have 
a good man’s whole love, be he young or old ?” 

She had had her husband’s entire affection, and he 
was young. But then he had died young, and his 
life, if short, had perhaps been the happier for that. 
He was so careless, so light-hearted, so — well, incon- 
sequent. Cissy is like him ; not Olivia. Who is 
Olivia like? Not like her father; not like But 
Cissy — so careless, too ; so entirely for the moment. 
God grant her feet may run upon a golden road, or 
else . . . But . . . but — poor Olivia ! 

The girls have not answered her last question ; 
and, indeed, they are all sunk in the depths of gloom, 

85 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


when a little tripping step upon the corridor outside, 
and a vigorous knock upon the door, and then a 
sudden, sharp opening of it, without waiting for per- 
mission to enter, brings them all back to every-day 
life. 

Chloe, in the prettiest, if simplest, little dinner 
frock, is standing on the threshold. 

“What! Oh, lazy ones!” pointing the finger of 
scorn at Olivia and Cissy. “ Not ready yet?” 

“ We are certainly disgracefully late !” says Mrs. 
Fitzgerald, rising from her seat in the corner. Chloe 
is instantly delightfully penitent. 

“ Mrs. Fitzgerald, you — how rude you must think 
me ! Fancy lecturing you ! I didn’t see you.” 

“No, Chloe; no, of course.” Mrs. Fitzgerald’s 
voice is a little sad. “ We were talking, you see, and 
— there, stay with the girls ; I shan’t be a moment 
changing my dress.” She slips past her. 

“ How gloomy you look !” says Chloe, advancing 
into the room. “ Like two guilty ghouls ! What’s 
it all about? The Major, for a bet! Don’t marry 
him, Olivia, even if he is hung round about with 
gems and ‘jools.’ Feeney, who insisted on dressing 
me just now, says he’s got lots of *jools.’ What 
are they? Good to eat? Feeney says they will be 
bad for you, anyway, Olivia ; that they will disagree 
with you. Feeney, dear old thing, is so fearfully 
strong that I was afraid to disagree with her, so in 
the long run she converted me to her opinion. And 
I should not swallow those fatal * jools’ if I were you. 
Don't marry him, Olivia !” A strangely stern note 
has crept into the merry young voice that is as 
86 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


mocking as it is merry. “Die first! Never marry 
a man so very much older than yourself. Never 
marry anyone unless you like him ; the doing of it 
spells ruin.” 

“ What a wiseacre I” says Olivia, who has pulled 
herself together. She even laughs; and, indeed, 
Chloe, with her little oval, childish face, framed with 
its still more childish chestnut locks, presents a 
picture of the “ guide, philosopher and friend” pro- 
vocative of mirth. “ Now, what can you know about 
it?” 

Chloe half closes her lids — a little trick with her. 

“ Why, nothing — nothing ! How should I ?” Her 
shoulders go up. It is the daintiest little shrug. 


CHAPTER IX. 

Be bolde, be bolde, and everywhere 
Be bolde.» 

Just at the close of dinner Chloe rises, and going 
to Mrs. Fitzgerald, presses her lips first to her 
hostess’s cheeks, and then to her ear. 

“ I know you want to talk things over. I shall go 
for a run. But don't let her marry the Major I” 

She gives her another caress, and in a moment has 
disappeared through the window on to the gravel 
path outside, and so to the garden, all flooded with 
silver light. 


87 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


Having gained it (the garden is well out of sight 
of the dining-room windows), she turns and runs 
swiftly down a side path that winds to the wood be- 
yond, and from that to another pathway that leads 
to Carrig Lodge. 

It is exquisitely warm. Night is falling softly, 
delicately ; the air is like a velvet covering, and the 
little wind coming from the south is filled with all 
the perfumes of the sleeping hedgerows. The firs 
on her right hand, with all their silver fingers out- 
held as if to catch the moonlight, are sparkling 
brilliantly ; and wild roses, red and white, nod their 
heads at her as she goes by, whispering to her that 
she, like they, should be abed. But Chloe runs 
ever onwards, quickly, feverishly, and yet undoubtedly 
with a touch of reckless amusement in her eyes. 

Thick strewn with silver stars” 

the heavens lie above her, and for a moment she 
stops to gaze at them, drawn by their beauty. And 
then on again, until suddenly rounding a corner, she 
comes face to face with a young man in a light 
tweed suit, a cap, and a gun. 

Both he and she come to a standstill. Indeed, he 
looks as if he can hardly believe his senses. 

** Chloe! You here!” 

“ Even 1.” She has naturally been the first to re- 
cover from their mutual astonishment, having known 
of his possible presence here some hours ago. 

“ You — really you !” He has come closer, as if to 
see — to make sure of her — in this dim light. 

Unbeliever !” cries she gaily. She has recovered 
88 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


herself, as has been said, and is now, indeed, in almost 
mad spirits. “Well! Can’t you see? Can’t you 
feel?” 

She lays her hand lightly on his. “ I was going up 
to The Lodge to find you, to tell you. I heard of your 
coming this afternoon, and I was afraid you might 
spoil my little arrangement here” — she shakes her 
head at him saucily — “ so I ran up — see ?” 

“ See ? No, I don’t ! And at this hour ! Good 
heavens, Chloe ! what does it all mean ? With what 
sort of people have you come in contact ?” 

“ The kindest, the very best 1” 

“ It looks like it 1” — scornfully. “ This utter reck- 
lessness on your part proves ” 

“ Oh, don’t begin by being rude !” cries she, with a 
wonderfully upraised chin and a disdainful curl of 
her lip. “You’re sure to be so later on. Reserve 
yourself.” 

“ I have no desire whatever” — angrily — “ to be rude, 
but — I insist on knowing all about this 1 How have 
you come here? and who are you staying with? 
My position towards you would alone authorise me 
to demand an answer to these questions; but I hope” 
— he hesitates — “ there — there has been a little friend- 
ship between us, Chloe ?” 

“ Are you speaking of friendship ? Oh ! I like 
you so much better that way !” says Chloe. 

“ You mustn’t think I’m giving in,” Carlton warns 
her firmly, though she can see it is with a struggle he 
maintains his stern attitude. 

“Of course not. And I’m not going to give in 
either. I” — taking a distinctly saucy air — “ insist on 
?9 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


knowing what you are doing at this hour of the night 
in a tweed suit! You should have dined by this 
time, and you — the immaculate ! — have you dined in 
tweed ?’* 

“ This is nonsense !” — coldly ; yet he condescends 
to explain. “ I have been out all day, and have not 
dined yet ” 

** Not yet ? Ah 1 that accounts for it.’* 

“ For what ?” 

She makes a little gesture. 

“ Your abominable temper !’* 

“ My temper” — calmly — “ is of little consequence. 
What I wish to know is, how you came here, and 
with whom you are living.” 

** You were always a lovely old dullard. Do you 
think,’* with distinct audacity, “ if I haven’t told any- 
one else how I came here, I am going to tell j/ou^ 
Gigi?” 

Carlton, at the mention of this old name of his, 
changes colour. She used to call him that before 
— before ... but not often — afterwards. There was 
so little time I 

‘‘Very good,” he says coldly; “I shall find out 
for myself later on.” 

“ Are you so sure ?” mockingly. 

“As a rule” — quietly — “I always get my own 
way.” 

“ If you had your own way now, you would send 
me packing back to — England, eh? But, you see, 
you can’t !” 

Something in her manner incenses him. 

“ Tell me at once with whom you are living, and 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


where ?” says he, taking no notice of her frivolity, 
and assuming an air of authority that half frightens, 
half amuses her. 

“ Surely, I have told you I” with a little grimace. 

At The Hermitage, with the kindest and, what to 
your Puritanical Majesty will sound even better, the 
very best people ... in every sense of that elastic 
word.” Here she gives him a little sketch of Mrs. 
Fitzgerald and her daughters. 

‘‘ Excellent people, no doubt !” says he satirically, 
when she has finished. And Israelites without 
guile, seeing they let you wander all over the country 
at this hour, unprotected ” 

“ Nonsense !” — angrily. They have nothing to 
do with my being here ; they don’t even know I am 
here. In fact, they know nothing about me at all 
— ^positively nothing! You must see they are not to 
blame.” 

** I see this,” says Carlton grimly, that you must 
be mad to persist in your present course. At all 
events” — deliberately, and looking her fair in the 
eyes — ‘‘I shall take care that the people you are 
staying with shall know who you are and ” 

“Oh, no! You can’t do that! You can't give 
me away ! What a beast you are, Granby ! And 
when I have confided in you, too! Oh, Granby, 
don’t ! Don't say a word. It is my affair, after all.” 

“ Scarcely that.” 

“ It is, however ; and it must be. Gigi, swear to 
me you will not betray me ?” 

“ But these people with whom you are living ?” 

“ What harm shall I do them ?” 

91 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

“ Ah ! that remains to be seen. No actual harm, 

perhaps, but ” He stops, and then says grimly : 

“ Any son of the house ?” 

“ Not one.” Chloe shakes her head seriously. 
** Only two girls.” Then all at once she breaks into 
an irrepressible, an almost wild, burst of laughter. 
“ Oh, Gigi ! must there always be a man ?” 

Where you are !” Carlton has not been led away 
by that little mad outburst. So there are no men 
at The Hermitage ; but there are men in the neigh- 
bourhood, I think ?” 

*'A few, a few!” — mockingly. *'But, Circe as 
you deem me (and, believe me, I regard it as an 
immense compliment), I assure you they are safe 
from me.” 

“ I don’t care about them” — roughly — “ I think of 
you — of your reputation.” 

“ Ah !” She looks unspeakably amused. If that 
was all I” 

“ It is enough, surely ! In your position, you ” 

She lifts her hand and lays it lightly on his lips. 

** No, no, no ! We won’t go into that. My posi- 
tion! — what is it? All I want, really, Granby, is 
safety, secrecy — for a time.” 

He looks at her. 

“You are counting on ?” 

“ Yes, I am counting on that!' He grows silent 
for quite a minute or two. 

“ I don’t like to think of you as quite without feel- 
mg. 

“ / don’t like to think of you as altogether a fool !” 
Chloe’s little laughing mouth has lost its mirth, and 
92 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


has grown stern. Where should the feeling come 
in, in my case ? Oh !” with a little violent gesture — 
a little throwing away, as it were, of something, 
“don’t let us be always pretending. You know 

nearly as much as I do, though not all ” She 

draws a swift, cruel breath that seems to shake her. 
Not air 

“ I know very little,” says Carlton. “ But ” 

“ Enough, surely !” with angry haste, “ not to 
betray me, here, where I am so happy and contented.” 

“ Do you ever think” — angrily — “ that you have 
duties, responsibilities ?” 

“ Never !” promptly. “ The very word duty annoys 
me. But why talk of silly things like that ? Come, 
now, Gigi ; you have always liked me, haven’t you ?” 
She pauses, raises her pretty eyes to his, and so 
becomes gradually aware that his own return gaze is 
slightly different from the usually speculative one to 
which she has grown accustomed. What is there in 

it now? Is it anger? or surprise? or ? “And 

I have always liked j/ou. We have been such good 
friends — for how long ?” She pauses, and seems to 
count out time on her fingers. “ For six months 
before, and six months after,” she says presently. 
“ Quite a whole long year. That makes us very 
great chums, in my opinion. And so you will be 
good to me about this, won’t you ?” 

“Oh, I suppose so,” says Carlton impatiently, 
his eyes on the ground. “ But I warn you of this : 
If I see you begin a single flirtation with any man in 
this place, I shall at once speak. I owe that to — my 
people, our people !” 


93 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


You are very unlikely to see one,” cries Chloe 
gaily. “ Why will you pose as the stupidest person 
on record ? Haven’t you looked around you ? But 
I forget; you don’t know this garden of Eden as 
yet. It is lovely, but unfortunately I came into it 
after Adam had been driven forth. For all amusing 
purposes there is no man left in it. I’ll give you the 
carte du pays of the country when next we meet — 
haven’t time now. Well, it’s a promise, then, that 
you won’t — that is, that you will” — spreading her 
hands abroad — ” leave me as I am ?” 

“ Yes” — coldly — “ I have said so.” 

“You’re a perfect darling!” with enthusiasm. 
“ Gigi,” with sudden solemnity, “ stoop down. Pre- 
pare for cavalry I I’m going to kiss you !’^ She 
pulls down his somewhat unwilling head, and gives 
him a light little kiss on his cheek. “You’re to be 
an old friend, you know,” educating him carefully, 
with a finger uplifted to emphasise every direction. 
“ Unfortunately, when first I heard your name men- 
tioned I forgot to say I knew you, so you are to be 
very, very surprised when we first meet. By the bye, 
names is Jones. See? And you’re my cousin; 
that will allow for our being friendly together.” 

“ It will allow for a good deal of pumping from 
my neighbours.” 

“ Oh, you must parry all that ; and besides, let us 
be truthful.” Her air is righteous. 

“ Good heavens !” says Carlton. 

“What do you mean, Granby? You are my 
cousin. Well, a sort of a cousin. And I’m your 
cousin too, in the same way.” 

94 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ Yes, a sort of a cousin,” with a touch of satire. 

'‘Oh, there! go home! You are in one of your 
nasty tempers,” says Chloe, with a little pout. “/ 
wouldn’t speak to you like that, anyway. I’ve 
always treated you as a friend.” 

“ To the extent of even concealing your present 
address from me.” 

Chloe, whose moods never last long — a fact that 
perhaps adds another enchantment to her — now 
breaks into a merry laugh. 

“Ah! I often thought of how you were angry 
with me; of how you were swearing at me. I 
have even imagined you as believing me dead, and 
being quite concerned about me in your lovely old 
solemn fashion. Did you ever think of me as 
dead ?” 

Carlton’s face has darkened as she speaks. 

“ No, I never thought of you as dead. A butter- 
fly like you, who feels nothing, cares for nothing 
but the sunshine and the glow — why should you 
ever die ?” 

“ A bad simile,” returns she quickly. “ Butterflies 
die the earliest of all. It is the others, who have 
souls, that live.” 

“ Have you one ?” His tone is extremely bitter. 

“ Oh, there ! That’s horrid of you, Gigi !” She 
makes a little gesture, as if pushing his words aside. 
“ Of course, I know you despise me ; but I think” — 
with a wonderful softening of the careless little face 
— “that you love me all the same. And you are, 
anyway, my very good friend.” 

“ I am afraid you are my very bad little friend,” 
95 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


says he. But all rancour has gone from him, 
charmed away by that magic softening of her eyes. 

“ No, no ; I shall be good to you.” 

“ Well, remember” — hardening again — I shall 
keep my eye on you. And now come home; which 
is your way ?” 

“ I have told you I am staying at a place called 
The Hermitage, with the dearest of people — the 
Fitzgeralds. They have no clothes, but delightful 
manners. Fm afraid they are very poor.” 

“ Well, you had better return to them ; I’ll take 
you ; though really your description of them rather 
staggers one. Delightful manners associated with no 
clothes ! It is hardly the preconceived idea of how 
things should be.” 

“You are growing quite smart!” says Chloe, with 
a shrug. “ Who’s been coaching you ? That little 
Danvers girl ? She hasn’t got a sound tooth in her 
head I No, no ; you shan’t come one step with me. 
Just fancy if any of those ultra-respectable people 
round here were to meet us ! How awful the conse- 
quences would be I Go your way, Granby, and I’ll 
go mine.” 

“ At this hour ! Certainly not !” 

“ How omnipotent is the voice of man I” cries 
Miss Jones in a tone of subdued awe. In another 
second she has picked up her Parisian-born skirts, 
and is out of sight before he has realised her inten- 
tion ; and, indeed, to follow her in this darkness, and 
through these unknown woods, would be a hopeless 
task. After an angry reflection or two he acknowl- 
edges this, and gives up the pursuit. 

96 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


Almost as Chloe, in her swift, birdlike flight, 
reaches the gates of The Hermitage, she comes face 
to face with a tall young man, who stops. 

“How d’ye do. Miss Jones? Out for a stroll? 
Lovely night.” 

“ The loveliest !” says Chloe, giving her hand very 
pleasantly to Tom Lloyd. “You too have felt its 
influence ?” 

“Couldn’t keep indoors,” says Tom. “Just” — 
with a calm gaze at her — “ like yourself.” 

“ I love the moonlight at this time of year,” says 
Chloe sentimentally. “ To come out and study it, and 
to watch the quiet, patient stars, is a very joy to me !” 

Tom laughs. 

“Do you always run when you study?” says he. 
His laugh is so real and so good-natured that she 
cannot find fault with it ; and yet — he is a very keen 
observer. 

“ Oh, no, no !” gaily. “ I was running because it 
was so late. It is late, isn’t it? Too late for” — 
with a swift little glance at him that is full of mean- 
ing — “ visiting, let us say.” 

“ Much too late !” agreeably. 

“ Yes ? I quite thought you were coming in. Not 
a visit, then ? Is it to be a serenade, perhaps ? . . . 
beneath the windows of Olivia ?” 

The little shaft goes home, but he shews no sign of it. 

“ Alas ! I have forgotten my guitar,” says he. 

She nods, and runs away down the avenue. Tom 
looks after her. He has grown thoughtful. 

“ I wonder who the deuce she is ?” he says pres- 
ently. “ A trifle too clever for my fancy, anyway.” 

97 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


CHAPTER X. 

« He went, like one that hath been stunn’d 
And is of sense forlorn.” 

The little church in the village is unusually full, 
considering the mad heat of the day. All the win- 
dows are open, and both the doors, with a view to 
prevent apoplexy. And through them the sun is 
pouring its parching rays. Mrs. Longton has fallen 
into a graceful slumber; Cynthia is blinking; even 
Mrs. Fitzgerald is feeling a little drowsy. Chloe, 
however, is wide awake ; she always is ; and Olivia 
and Cissy are studying Lady Matilda’s last new 
bonnet. Lady Matilda has a house-party of twelve 
or so, and has invited the Fitzgeralds, Mr. Carlton, 
the Castle Lloyd people, and, of course, the Major, 
who is a great favourite with her, to luncheon after 
church. 

In spite of a few defections, the larger part of the 
congregation to-day is more alert than usual — far less 
drowsy, at all events — the strangers’ pew having a 
tenant in it. Carlton, though quite unconscious of the 
fact, is indeed the cynosure of all eyes. Who is he? 
What is he? Rich, of course. And Carlton — a 
rather good name. What Carlton? And so on. 
Chloe could have enlightened them, and so could 
the Fitzgeralds, Chloe having taken advantage of a 
chance meeting with him in the village yesterday to 
98 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


greet him, not exactly effusively, but in very friendly 
guise, and as a sort of cousin.” 

“Fancy your being the Mr. Carlton who was 
coming to The Lodge !” She had blushed, certainly, 
as she said that ; and Cissy, who is extremely roman- 
tic, had let her thoughts run wild into delightful 
ways. Can this be ? 

“ Granby is a cousin of mine, dear Mrs. Fitzger- 
ald,” Chloe had said, later on, turning to Carlton, 
and had very charmingly introduced him to her 

hostess. “ A distant one, but I hope, Granby, 

you will spare a little time from your fishing to come 
and see us now and then ?” 

Carlton had muttered something to the effect that 
if Mrs. Fitzgerald would be so good as to receive 
him he would be very glad to call ; whereon Mrs. 
Fitzgerald, who is hospitality itself, and with whom 
Carlton had at once fallen in love, had said in her 
pretty, friendly Irish way that whenever he came he 
should be welcome. The blush had faded from 
Chloe’s face by this, and her farewell to Carlton had 
been so indifferent that the romantic dreams in Cissy’s 
mind faded — to be revived later on. 

The afternoon grows hotter and hotter. The 
rector has been droning away at the prayers, the 
bees have been droning away at the windows, and 
now the curate, Mr. Gossler, has got up to read the 
First Lesson. It is the third chapter of Genesis. 

Unfortunately, Mr. Gossler has fallen a victim to 
Chloe’s lovely eyes; and seeing those lovely eyes 
just now fixed on his, he grows confused and, in- 
deed, distinctly ashamed both of Adam and Eve. 

7 99 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


He falters, stammers, under the fire of those merci- 
less eyes that are always on him, and once or twice 
loses his place. That he disapproves of Adam and 
Eve is, of course, quite bad enough ; but to inform 
his congregation that he does not regard fig-leaves, 
however enormously grown, to be of much use in 
the way of garments shews him as a young man far 
more advanced in biblical views (if wanting in mod- 
ern ones) than one, to look at him, would have be- 
lieved. 

At all events, this is how he puts it. It is an en- 
tirely new rendering of Genesis, but new renderings 
now are very popular. 

“Adam sewed fig-trees together to make them- 
selves aprons.” 

Adam must have found it a tough job. 

There is a little stir. Some of the congregation 
bury their faces behind their books. Many smile 
inwardly. 

“ Leaves !” stammers the curate, correcting himself 
frantically. “They sewed ^^-leaves together.” It 
is all in vain. Everyone is too delighted to even 
desire a right rendering. Indeed, Lady Matilda’s 
nephew, a sprightly youth of twenty, who knows 
considerably more than he ought to know, and who 
has been apparently asleep up to this, rouses him- 
self enough to give his aunt a severe dig in the ribs, 
that nearly upsets that masculine dame. Lady 
Matilda turns a frowning glance upon him, which he 
disdains to see. He has, perhaps (to give him a 
chance), hardly time to see it, as he is now himself 
occupied in casting frowning glances, of the virtuously 

lOO 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


indignant order, on the occupants of the pew in 
which Cissy sits — Cissy, who is (to his apparent 
regret) convulsed with silent laughter. 

However, it is all over presently. The service has 
survived the curate’s mistake, and again the rector is 
droning, droning; eyelids are dropping, dropping. 
But now the sound of pennies falling into the plate 
at the lower end of the church, where the farmers 
sit, wakes the universal slumber. Everyone grows 
alert as the plate is being handed round. Everyone, 
that is, except three indomitable old ladies, farmers’ 
wives, whose snores increase to such an alarming 
extent as the churchwarden approaches them that 
the poor man hurries past them as if sleuth-hounds 
were after him. 

Everyone up here at the top of the church is 
growing quite lively too. Sleep flies from their eye- 
lids. What will Sir Hardress put in to-day — a half- 
penny or a penny ? He had been known to put in a 
penny 07tce / — perhaps, who can say, he may do it 
again. Expectation is at its topmost height. 

The betting, however, according to Mr. Bethune 
(Lady Matilda’s nephew), is on the halfpenny. Mrs. 
Fitzgerald and her party do not join in this excite- 
ment, principally, no doubt, because they know their 
Sir Hardress, and are entirely sure of what he will 
do. But Lady Matilda, who, in her manly way, 
would go far for the chance of a laugh (for a “ guffaw,” 
according to her undutiful nephew, who terms thus 
her bursts of mirth), and a great many of the other 
people who ought to know better, are leaning for- 
ward and looking quite curious. It is one of the 

lOI 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


weekly excitements in Aughribeg, and, after all, one 
should not be too hard on the dwellers in this dull 
spot. There is so little to do in a secluded country 
place that one falls back upon the smallest, the most 
trivial, the most contemptible bit of gossip, in the 
hope of turning it into a subject for mirth. For 
mirth is hard of reach when there are so few people 
to supply it. 

The game is rendered even more enthralling by 
the fact that it is almost impossible — at all events 
very difficult — to see what coin Sir Hardress puts in, 
on account of the way he lays it on the plate. He 
is wonderfully ingenious about it. He covers the 
coin (whatever it is) with his hand, until it is min- 
gled unrecognisably with the others. This action 
of his is worthy of the most advanced thimble-rigger, 
and would throw credit on a diplomatist. Still, 
to the adroit watcher all things are possible, and 
to-day the churchwarden — who happens to be the 
local baker, and at open war with Sir Hardress over 
the matter of sixpence three farthings in his last bill 
— aids and abets Mr. Bethune in his winning of quite 
a handsome sum (“ ten bob,” as the latter calls it) from 
his aunt. The irate baker, filled with a fine sense of 
vengeance, gives the plate a shove to the right just 
as Sir Hardress is about to put down his muffled 
coin ; his hand slips, his grasp relaxes, and the coin 
rolls openly into the plate. It is a halfpenny ! 

A feeling of intense gratification fills the audience. 
If it had been a penny it would have been disappoint- 
ing ; if a threepenny-bit an overwhelming misfortune. 
But a halfpenny is quite as it should be — unless, 
102 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


indeed, the baker’s manoeuvre had made plain a 
farthing. That would have raised joy unspeakable. 
For, indeed. Sir Hardress has gained most un- 
favourable notoriety in the neighbourhood as a miser 
of the first water, and not altogether without cause. 
He is one of those men who are careful never to have 
small change about them, and who, after a sojourn of 
a week or so in a friend’s house (the house of an 
acquaintance, rather; he has no friends), has an un- 
pleasant way of saying good-bye to his host over- 
night, starting next morning by the earliest train on 
foot, and leaving his luggage to be sent after him, 
thus avoiding largesse to the servants of the house. 
Of course, this side move does not always come 
off, and there have been bitter moments when the 
man having brought down his portmanteau, in sight 
of the hostess (who is always in the most extraor- 
dinary spirits at speeding him), he has had to give 
him something. It is on these occasions, however, 
that he excels himself, pressing into the willing palm 
of the domestic — with such an effusive air as con- 
veys the idea of half-a-guinea at least— the simple 
sixpence. 

The service has come to an end now, and the con- 
gregation, hot, tired, and a good deal out of sorts, 
streams out into the splendid sunshine, bearable 
because of the light and pleasant breeze that rushes 
through it The Fitzgeralds, the Castle Lloyd 
people, and others who, as it has been said, are 
bound for Lady Matilda’s house for luncheon, turn 
to the little stile that leads for barely half a mile 
through the smiling meadows to her beautiful home. 

103 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


Tom Lloyd, who has been delayed, and is hurry- 
ing forward, finds himself picked up by the Major. 

Going on to lunch at Morne Hall ?” says Major 
O’Hara genially. And kept back by those beastly 
vestry people? Yes? So was I. That baker fel- 
low is a bore, but amusing, very amusing !” with a 
kindly chuckle, remembering the halfpenny. “ We 
are a bit late, but we can catch them up if we make 
haste.” 

I’m afraid I shan’t be able to go with you — 
thanks,” says Tom, in a rather nasty, drawly way. 
“ I’ve got to see to something over there,” pointing 
vaguely to a farm behind him, rising in its trees 
from amongst the hills. 

He turns deliberately, steps over the stile, and dis- 
appears. The Major looks after him, and gives way 
to thought. Now, as if he could have business at 
that farm to-day — to-day of all days! And if he 
had, what the deuce did he mean by coming this 

way? Why, he ” The Major stops suddenly, 

as if forgetting the end of his sentence. “ He was 
certainly coming this way — my way — then sees me, 

and D — n impertinence !” says the kindest man 

on earth to himself, with a quite royal assumption 
of rage. “ But what has changed him ? What have 
I done to him, anyway ? Who the deuce has pulled 
his leg ? He used to be one of the nicest fellows I 

know, but now What the divil have I done 

to him, anyway?” The Major has fallen into his 
Irish eccentricities of speech, as his distress grows 
upon him, for to be “wroth with those he loves” 
— and he has quite a keen fancy for Tom — makes 

104 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


the tender-hearted man wretched. “ I must have 
offended him in some way. But how ?” 

He grows thoughtful, puzzling his brain to no 
effect whatever. And no wonder ! for who did 
Major O’Hara ever offend, by word or deed, during 
the whole course of his happy and honourable life ? 

The affair is quite a puzzle to him, even when 
presently he comes up with the guests bound for 
Lady Matilda’s hospitable house. 

Lady Matilda, with Mrs. Fitzgerald and Sir Har- 
dress, are far ahead, but here, in the midst of the green 
and growing leaves of the wood, the others are loiter- 
ing. Laurence Lloyd and Carlton, with Chloe, are 
together. Olivia is here too, with Mr. Bethune ; but 
the discontented look on her face seems to the Major 
to shew that she is not altogether happy, and so he 
steps quickly to her side. 

As his footsteps reach her ears she turns, a quick, 
strange light — that the Major never yet had seen — 
within her eyes. But, seeing him, it fades. How- 
ever, there is no doubt but that she welcomes the 
Major very kindly, and rather shelves Mr. Bethune 
in his favour. 

The tv/o last parties seem now to melt into one ; 
and some talk about current topics, about the woes 
of the Armenians especially, brings Cissy to quite a 
white heat of indignation. But Miss Jones inter- 
poses. 

“ Oh, don’t talk of horrid things like that !” cries 
she, with a little indescribable gesture full of horror 
and disgust. 

“ Still, if one has a heart ” says Cissy. 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ Oh, hearts !” Chloe casts a swift glance at Lau- 
rence. Hearts are a mistake, aren’t they ? I” — 
gaily — “ have no heart !” 

(“ Poor thing !” thinks Cissy, “ she has suffered for 
hers so much that she now almost believes she hasn’t 
one!”) 

My cousin,” says Chloe, catching Carlton’s eye, 
will assure you of it.” Her tone is quite clear, if 
a little derisive, yet Laurence, standing near, feels a 
touch of anger in it. 

“ I believe in your heart,” says he in a low voice. 
It catches her ear only. There is an extraordinary 
force in it, and a love and longing that startles even 
her. 

Stupid 1” whispers she back ; and then aloud : 
“ No one has a heart nowadays. We know better. 
Hearts have gone out of fashion. They are obsolete 
— like the big sleeves. No doubt they will come in 
again later — much later — and we shall be all sweet- 
ness and light again.” 

“ You ought to give us a lead. Miss Jones,” says 
Mr. Bethune tenderly. He is always remarkably 
suave. 

“ Delighted 1” says Chloe, with a charming smile. 
” But one must wait, you see.” 

“ Wait for a turn of the tide ? That shews such 
want of go. I don’t want to wait,” says he. 

“ The young man in a hurry is always a failure,” 
says Miss Jones sweetly. 

“ Look here, Bethune,” says the Major, who has 
just now come up with them, ‘‘ Miss Chloe doesn’t 
strike me as a girl fit to pose as a coward. I think 
io6 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

you do her injustice there. Eh, Carlton?” The 
Major’s kind and cheery voice rings out clearly. 
“You’re her cousin, you know, and should stand 
sponsor for her.” 

He waits, but Carlton remains silent for quite a 
moment. Then : 

“ One doesn’t always understand one’s cousins,” 
replies he slowly, turning away. The Major looks 
after him. “ A deuced poor sort,” thinks he indig- 
nantly. “ Why, hang it all, understand her or not^ 
he might have said a good word for her ! The devil 
carry off all these young men of to-day !” 

They have now left the wood and entered the 
village, to cross which will bring them to the gates 
of Morne. The village street is comparatively de- 
serted; only a few children playing about in the 
sideways are to be seen. 

“You see,” says Chloe, nodding her charming 
head, “even my own cousin won’t vouch for me. 
And quite right, too ! I tell you, feelings and 
hearts are foolish things; one gains nothing by 
them. Why trouble oneself about anything or any- 
body?” 

“ I cannot think of you as uncharitable,” says Lau- 
rence, in a low, adoring tone. 

“ No ?” She beams upon him, and he, alas ! is 
only too ready to be beamed upon by her. “But 
you must not let your charity run away with you. 
I still think that the unhappy creature who has a 
heart, and who can feel for anything but herself” — 
with the happiest smile at the Major, who is shaking 
his head at her — “ is a perfect idiot ! Why, if you 
107 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


consider Oh !” She has turned her head ; some- 

thing beyond — on the road — catches her attention. 
Her eyes dilate. ** Oh, oh ! see ! Oh ! My God !” 
Her face grows livid. 


CHAPTER XL 

" Every man has in himself a continent of undiscovered character.” 

It takes only a moment, after all. A swift rush 
across the street ; a little child dragged from under 
the wheels of a passing cart — the driver of which 
is unmistakably drowsy with drink — having been up 
at a wake all last night, and just now coming home 
from the funeral. The shaft of the cart catches 
Chloe’s shoulder as she grasps the child — swinging 
her rudely to the right, where she is prevented from 
falling by Laurence Lloyd, whose face is even whiter 
than hers. She, indeed, is taking things delightfully, 
whilst rubbing her shoulder. “ It is quite all right, 
really! No harm done. Naught never comes to 
harm, you know.” 

They are all very much distressed and, indeed, 
alarmed. Laurence, as we have already said, had 
shewn actual fear. Carlton alone stands aloof. 
There is no doubt about his being distinctly angry. 
He has marched up to the man in the cart, who has 
come to a standstill, his legs hanging over the shaft, 
his eyes vacant. 

” What the d — 1 do you mean by driving over 
io8 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


people like that ” he is beginning furiously, when 

Chloe breaks in. 

Don’t frighten the poor man with your terrible 
expletives,” she says. “ Let him go home, and to 
bed. Anyone can see it is the best place for him. 

As for this little urchin ” looking down at the 

boy with an amused smile. The nervous clutch of 
her hand on his has never relaxed. 

I shall report you to the police,” says Carlton 
to the man, slowly, with decision. He takes no 
notice of her interposition. The man nods heavily, 
and goes on. It is evident that he has understood 
nothing. As for that troublesome brat” — turning 
now with a frown to the child — “he ought to 
get ” 

“ Half-a-crown !” says Chloe gaily. “ Here it is.” 
She presses it into the baby’s hand, a little, forlorn, 
crying thing of four or so. “After all, Granby, 
we have changed places ; I have all the feeling now, 
and you all the stoicism. Come, do you understand 
me now?^' 

“Less than ever!” curtly. “You had better go 
on and let someone see to your shoulder.” He re- 
leases her hand from the child’s, and gives the latter 
to its slattern of a mother (a good, honest and affec- 
tionate soul, as most Irish mothers are, in spite of 
her rags), who is now pouring forth untold blessings 
on Chloe’s head. She is, indeed, dissolved in tears, 
and having got back her child, is embracing it with 
a wild affection, the tears streaming down her cheeks. 
And Carlton, with an Englishman’s horror of senti- 
ment, having seen that all his companions have gone 
109 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


several yards on their original way, and that they 
cannot see what he is doing, adds half-a-sovereign 
to Chloe’s half-crown, and then follows them. 

Chloe really had not been much injured (a mere 
bruise that disappeared in a day or two) ; and find- 
ing that the idea of making her a heroine hurt her 
very considerably more than the shaft of the cart, 
the subject was dropped, and not renewed again, 
even when Lady Matilda’s house is reached, and 
they are all sitting round the hospitable luncheon 
table, where Lady Matilda, more horsey even than 
usual, is declaiming about all things, stabley and 
otherwise. She is particularly effusive about her 
horses to Carlton, who, though she does not know | 
from Adam what Carltons he belongs to (and has 
not even had the curiosity to inquire), has caught 
her fancy as a man to whom horses appeal. Not 
exactly a racing man, but a man, she has discovered, 
who has won a renowned race or two. That he 
is Miss Jones’ cousin has been made known to her, 
as to most of the inhabitants of Aughribeg. But ; 
Carlton, when questioned, had been singularly lacka- ; 
daisical in his answering. “ Yes — a cousin — a very 
remote cousin, he believed.” Indeed, Jones not 
being an altogether aristocratic surname, Aughri- 
beg in a body had decided that he was ashamed of 
Miss Jones as a relative, and with remarkably good 
taste had refrained from further cross-examination. 
Aughribeg, indeed, was a little cold to Miss Jones 
after his arrival, until her lovely costumes, and her 
even more lovely manners, melted its heart once ; 
more ; but during her probation (it really only lasted a , 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


few days, coming to a most timely end when she gave 
a cheque for twenty pounds to the county hospital) 
Carlton was sufficiently angry to expostulate with 
her about it. To tell her she ought to fully explain 
who she was and all about it ; but she told him to 

sit tight” ; to pile it up as hard as he could” ; 
“ to give everyone to understand he was thoroughly 
ashamed of her” ; “ as he was, wasn’t he ? and, any- 
way, she was going to be Miss Jones to the end of 
the chapter ! To the end of her time at Aughribeg, 
anyway ! so he might do as he liked. See ?” 

“Awfully funny curate you’ve got,” says Mr. 
Bethune, addressing his aunt at luncheon. “ Did 
you hear him to-day ?” 

“ Sh I Naughty boy !” says Lady Matilda, in a 
tone so carefully moral as to attract the attention of 
everybody. Lady Matilda is fond of “ interludes,” 
and as a rule encourages her nephew as hard as ever 
she can. 

“Why should I ‘sh’?” demands he. “There is 
nothing to ‘ sh’ about He alluded to a little gar- 
ment — the merest little airy garment. Why should 
anyone ‘ sh’ a garment like that ?” 

“ Look here” — begins Lady Matilda threateningly. 
Then : “ George” — to her husband — “ stop him !” 
But everybody now is laughing, and Mr. Morne, 
good man though he be, is quite incapable of stop- 
ping anybody, on whatever career he may have 
started. 

“ I don’t see why I should be stopped,” says Mr. 
Bethune, with indignation. “ Surely that First 
Lesson had something irregular in it, something 

III 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


that led me to think that the curate’s ideas about 
our forefathers were vague to a degree ? Y\^-trees^ 
you know'!” He peers at his aunt through his 
glasses ; he is rather short-sighted. 

“ Really, my dear Digby 1” Lady Matilda makes 
passes in the air. 

“ Rather uncomfortable sort of an apron 1” says 
Mr. Bethune, unabashed, addressing himself now to 
Mrs. Fitzgerald, w'ho, I regret to say, is laughing 
softly. 

“ I don’t see how you could have heard any- 
thing,” says Tom Lloyd, who had come in late, 
after that very unnecessary detour; ‘‘you go to 
sleep during the entire service as a rule, and yet to- 
day ” 

“ Yes, to-day,” says Lady Matilda. That’s what 
I complain of. He must needs be wide awake to- 
day, just when that poor little man ” 

“Was in such a blue funk he couldn’t give out 
the Scriptures as they are. I think he ought to 
be taken up — fined for contempt!” Mr. Bethune 
looks magisterial. “ However, I shan’t be the one 
to bring him to justice. On the contrary, I shall 
cherish his memory for ever. He has cleared my 
character, and exposed all the vile scandal that, 
according to Lloyd, seems to be flying round these 
parts, associating me with irreverence in church.” 

“ Oh, no, Digby !” 

“ Well, sleepiness in church. That’s worse in the 
clerical eye. Everyone now, I hope” — glancing 
round him — “ is witness that such a disgraceful libel 
has no cause.” 


12 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ ril not be witness to that !” cries his masculine 
aunt. “ In my opinion it was the barest fluke your 
being awake at that moment.” 

“Was it? Oh, Auntie!” Mr, Bethune bends a 
reproachful eye upon her. “ How you misjudge 
me! And why should I be the only scapegoat? 
Was nobody else asleep? Miss Fitzgerald” — to 
Olivia — “ do you ever sleep ?’^ 

This question is far-reaching. 

“ Every night,” says Olivia. 

“ But in church ?” 

“No, no — at least” — colouring a little — “I don’t 
think so.” 

“ Miss Fitzgerald, pray be careful ! Much to me 
depends upon your answer. A companion in crime 
is always a comfort to one, and I should love you for 
a companion. Were you, or were you not, asleep 
to-day ?” 

“ Certainly I was not !” indignantly. 

“ No ?” in a momentous tone. “ Then will you 
mind telling all these people here what the text was ?” 

“ The text ?” 

“ Of the sermon,” severely. 

“ Oh, the text !” Poor Olivia ! She searches her 
inmost memory, but cannot remember it. Plow 
dreadful of her ! She glances at Tom, but either he 
does not know, or will not help her out of her diffi- 
culty. “Just like him,” she tells herself. She would 
not look at the Major, who would have been de- 
lighted to look at her, and has, indeed, the text 
pursed on his lips. So, failing outside support, she 
falls back on herself. 

“3 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


** Do you mean that you have forgotten it ?” asks 
she, smiling at Bethune in a little pretty shocked 
way. “ And that you want me to remind you of it ? 
No” — shaking her head — you have been con- 
demned by your tribunal, and ” 

“I’m ashamed of you,” says Bethune; “I am 
indeed 1 Such terrible prevarication in one so young 

and so I don’t believe you could tell us that 

text if your life depended on it.” 

“ I’m sure she could if she would,” says the Major 
suddenly, his kindly handsome face beaming on her. 
“ Don’t give in, Olivia.” 

Olivia smiles very reluctantly back at him, then 
turns away. There is distinct ingratitude in her air. 

“ I should never do that,” says she, with a little 
curl of her lip. 

Everyone begins now to talk at once, and presently 
luncheon is over, and they have all sauntered into the 
libraiy — a grand old room, from one of the windows 
of which the broad lake, decorated here and there 
along its banks by water-lilies, can be seen, and be- 
yond it a view of the far mountains — the eternal hills. 

Mr. Bethune is still talking. He never stops, 
indeed. 

“ I’m going to give the curate a five-pound note 
because of his kindness towards me ; for in spite of 
you. Miss Fitzgerald,” looking at Olivia, “he has 
proved that I was manfully awake during his minis- 
trations. As for you — well — the truth has not trans- 
pired yet.” 

“ I’ll believe in that five-pound note when I see it,” 
says Lady Matilda. 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ You won’t see it ; he will. I shall give it to him 
for his old man’s fund ; sure to have got a fund of 
that sort.” 

“ Far surer to have got a young maid’s fund,” says 
Sir Hardress, with his usual evil grunt, from the 
background. “ I hate those sanctimonious fellows.” 

He is evidently in an extraordinarily bad temper. 
As a rule he always is, but to-day he is excelling 
himself. He comes over to Mrs. Fitzgerald. 

“ What about that girl of yours and O’Hara ?” asks 
he. “ Is it settled ? Has he come to the point, eh ?” 

Not yet.” 

“ I’d advise you to hurry him up. He may change 
his mind. Very likely to, though he is a fool. 

What he can see in a girl like that I suppose 

the fact that he was in love with you once induces 
him in his Indian summer” — with a most disagreeable 
laugh — ” to turn to her. Ten thousand a year if a 
penny. Get that girl married to him, Dora.” 

At this detestable moment the Major comes bus- 
tling up. 

“ I’m making up a dinner for Friday next,” says 
he. An old — well, I suppose I ought to say — 
friend of mine, but between ourselves a bit of a — 
well, well, let that go. Anyway, he is coming to 
stay with me from Friday to Sunday. Always 
travels on Sunday to save time, he says (old hea- 
then!). Well, will you all come? You, Lady Ma- 
tilda, and you, Morne? And ” He gives the 

kindest invitation to all present; and all accept it 
very gladly. Indeed, there are few people who 
would decline any invitation to The Glen. 

8 IIS 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

** Your friend’s name ?” asks Lady Matilda in her 
strident tones. ‘'You have given such a thrilling 
description of him that I quite burn to know it. Is 
it Bluebeard ? and from where does he come ? — from 
the Arctic or the Torrid Zone? You whet my 
curiosity. Give us his name.” 

“Scarcely a friend, you know,” says the Major. 
“An acquaintance of long standing. We were at 
Eton together. Blakeney is his name.” 

“Ah, good name enough,” says Lady Matilda. 
“ I know some Blakeneys in Kerry — any relation ?” 

“ I fancy not. My Blakeney is English.” 

Almost immediately the party breaks up, and the 
members of it go their separate ways. The Fitz- 
geralds ate walking, and Carlton, whose road home 
marches with theirs, goes with them. He is com- 
pelled to this, indeed, by a mute but eloquent com- 
mand from Chloe’s eyes. Laurence had expressed a 
wish to accompany her, also, but the same eloquent 
command had condemned him to the companion- 
ship of Cissy. By degrees Carlton and Chloe drop 
behind the others, and presently a little turn in the 
wooded pathway leaves them free from the inspection 
of those who are before them. 

“ What — what brings him here ?” cries Chloe in a 
low tone, stopping short, and looking as people 
should look when they are popularly supposed to be 
wringing their hands. 

“ I don’t know. Fate, let us say, and be done with 
it.” 

“ Oh, nonsense ! as if it were so easy to be done 
with it as all that — to get rid of any difficulty. I 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


wish — I wish,” a little wildly, “I had my way for 
once, and I would be rid of him this very moment 
for ever ! Just fancy, Gigi — fancy that viper coming 
here !” 

** The world is small. I don’t suppose” — coldly — 
“but that even in your wildest dreams you must 
have known that one day you would be found out.” 

“ He shan’t find me out, anyway.” 

“ If not he— the other.” 

“ Oh, the other !” — she shrugs her shoulders con- 
temptuously — “ he is of no account. And besides” 
— with a scornful laugh — “ too fully occupied.” 

“I wish to heaven,” says Carlton angrily, “you 
would give up this masquerading ! He may or may 
not find you out; but the talk, the scandal about 
you that is going on in town would — or at all events 
ought to — frighten you. Nobody can disappear, as 
you have done, without very disagreeable things 
being said about them. And you know you left 
yourself open to unpleasant comments.” 

“ There are always fools in the world,” says Chloe 
philosophically. 

“ And wise men too. Even fools, however, can be 
troublesome.” 

“For the moment — like gnats. Do you know, 
Granby” — with a charming defiance that is not in the 
least put on — I don’t care a fig what any one of 
those Alger people say. And it is the Alger people 
you are alluding to. They were madly jealous of 
me because — oh, idiot that I am !” — flinging out her 
hands — “ because I got what they could not get, and 
what, after all — when I had it — I loathed.” 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ Then why did you take it ” he begins ; then 

checks himself. The answer is so simple. “ It is 
not only the Alger people, however. There are 
others. You know how you flirted ** 

“ Industriously !’* unabashed. 

** With every man you met.’* 

‘‘ Better than flirting altogether with one man, ajj 
some of our friends do.” 

‘‘Argument is nothing in a case like this,” says 
Carlton hotly. “You know right well I am telling 
you the truth. And I tell you, too, that you ought 
to go back to your home.” 

“ Which home — Brayle or ” 

“ The other, of course.” 

“Well, I shall not, now or ever. Gossips may 
waste their happy hours on me, but I shall stay here 
till time sets me free — or you betray me.” 

“ I shan’t do that,” says he, always, however, with 
a disapproving air. “And as for time — are you 
building on that ?” 

“ Why not ? Every criminal clings to the chance 
of a reprieve.” 

“ It is hateful” — frowning~“ and unwomanly.” 

“ It is just,” steadily. She flings up her charming 
head. “And it is honest. Why make sickening 
pretences at grief, or fear, or regret, when one’s whole 
soul is pulsing the other way ?” 

He looks at her as she stands before him — a 
charming, lovely picture — and remembering all the 
bitterness that has brought this girl, who ought still 
to be a happy child, to her present state of mind, he 
feels a rush of rage against those responsible for her 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


cruel progression, and in his heart condones and for- 
gives her. “It is true you have cause. I can 
scarcely blame you. However,” he continues pres- 
ently, “ I am sure in the long run you will have to 
give up this ridiculous position. Blakeney’s coming 
should give you pause; and he may not be the 
only one. I myself dropped in here, you see, by 
chance.” 

“ Was it chance, Gigi?” She asks this saucily. 
Gigi is a family name with him, and Chloe had learnt 
it, and liked it. His face changes. 

“ Enough of this nonsense,” he says coldly. 
“Take my advice and dine at the Major’s on Friday. 
See Blakeney face to face, and put an end to all this 
outrageous and most undesirable nonsense.” 

“ A truly tragical ending to a most farcical begin- 
ning. No, I thank you, my lord.” She shrugs her 
shoulders. 

“As you will,” sternly. “But I tell you this, 
Chloe, that ” 

She waves him aside. 

Pouf cries she. “A fig for your telling! I 
shall not go to Major O’Hara’s dinner, though I 
should dearly like to, and I shall stay here a free 
and happy person until, for me, the skies fall.” 

“ Well, it is your own lookout,” says Carlton drily. 


119 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


CHAPTER XII. 

“ The bitter sweet, the honey blent with gall.” 

It is quite impossible for anyone who loves her 
not to see that the radiant Chloe is to-day — Friday, 
the Friday of Major O’Hara’s dinner-party — very 
much depressed, and that she has been so ever since 
that luncheon at Lady Matilda’s. Certainly, at 
intervals, she had been as gay as a lark (or herself), 
but every now and then gloom had caught her. 
And to-day she has broken down altogether. A 
dreadful headache has taken possession of her — is 
quite crushing her, she tells them. She could not 
possibly go to Major O’Hara’s dinner. No, she 
would be but a wet blanket at his charming enter- 
tainment, and would probably have to leave early, 
and so spoil the happiness of the girls, who will, of 

course, be enjoying themselves immensely, and 

I shan’t,” Olivia had said very sharply at that 
moment, but Chloe had refused to listen to her.) At 
all events, she is not going. She has just written a 
little note to the dear Major to say so. Are not 
headaches horrid ? and so on. She will go into the 
garden and see if the air will do her any good. 

The garden — a very wilderness of sweets — seems, 
indeed, to do her an infinity of good, and with almost 
extraordinary speed, too. Her languor drops from 
her on finding herself alone — the girls are busy with 
120 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


their dinner-gowns — and she uplifts her voice, sweeter 
than any bird, and from pure lightness of her heart 
— born of a great relief — sings to herself aloud. 

She has arranged it, though she had feared for 
their suspicions ; and, after all, they have suspected 
nothing. And on Sunday he will be gone. Fancy 
his dining at The Glen to-night ! Old wretch ! Well, 
better he than the other. How she would like to 
see him — after all these months ! — She falls a-think- 
ing. The Glen, when one comes to think of dis- 
tance, is only a mile or so from this, and through the 
woods 

Filled with her new design, she has seated herself 
in the little summer-house — a nest of roses and ear- 
wigs — and again is smiling softly to herself over 
some secret thought, when a shadow, marring the 
sunshine at her feet, brings her back to the present, 
and the fact that Laurence Lloyd is beside her. All 
at once she remembers her headache, and puts on a 
heart-broken air. 

Laurence, tall, handsome, stands looking at her 
for a moment, then, a distressed look dawning in his 
eyes, sits down beside her. 

“ You are unhappy,” says he very gently. “ One 
can see it. I can. Something is troubling you.” 

** Yes, yes. I am worried,” confesses she. Lau- 
rence is delightful ; a perfect rest. She can depend 
on him, and can therefore say what she likes to him. 
That's the best of men, Chloe has often told herself. 
They never want to give you away, whereas women 
quite hanker after it. 

She slips her pretty fingers through her hair, as if 

I2I 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

distracted. Here is a new amusement ready to her 
hand. She has run him through all the gamut of her 
gay moods. How will he be in her sad ones ? It is 
a charming, a delightful experiment. How funny 
that she had never thought of it before ! I am 
very unhappy,” she says, in a tone that would have 
moved Saint Anthony. She looks indeed a lovely 
living image of despair. 

Tell me about it ?” There is infinite tenderness 
in his tone. 

“ I have a headache.” 

“ But that isn’t all. Tell me.” 

“ Oh, I can’t. I wish I could.” 

“Is — is it about your former life? Your — your 
guardian ?” 

This is far too near the mark to be pleasant. 
Chloe shakes her head sadly but vigorously. 

“ I thought, perhaps,” his eyes growing brighter, 
happier, as though a weight has been lifted, “ that 
your people might have heard of your being here, 
and were coming to take you away, and ” 

“ No, no !” She interrupts him with a shudder ; 
the shudder is, at all events, quite genuine. ** That 
is not it. Of course, you have guessed that I have 
come here to escape — well — persecution. But I am 
safe still. It is not that. As for my people — that is” 
— she grows a little more evasive — “ my actual rela- 
tions, they are but one. And” — with a shrug — “ quite 
enough, too. One too many, if it comes to that.” 

It is the nearest approach she has ever made to a 
communication about herself; and Laurence flushes, 
and draws closer to her. 


22 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


'^You see, I know you have a guardianl' be- 
gins he. 

Chloe looks mournfully before her, her hands 
clasped across her knees, her eyes fixed and desolate. 
She is secretly wondering how she is doing it — well 
or ill ? 

** I have a beast!'' returns she, in low and musical 
accents. 

“ Oh, so bad as that ? Fancy” — his young face 
growing crimson with rage and disgust — “ fancy his 

daring to treat you — you But what is it now, 

Chloe ? There is something fresh. What has hap- 
pened lately? You have heard something about 
him, have you not ? Or — is it that you want money ? 
If so" — eagerly — “ let me help you. I have two or 
three hundred pounds lying idle ; let me.” 

“ So much ?” says Chloe. She seems struck with 
the liveliest amazement; then, rising suddenly, goes 
to a flower-bed near her. When he cannot see her 
face, it changes. First it is filled with amusement ; 
then slowly a kindlier light grows on it. 

Oh, it is a mere nothing,” says Laurence, half 
ashamed. And I don’t want it. I beg you to take 
it. It occurred to me that perhaps ” 

^*Oh, Laurence!” She has turned, and all the 
amusement has gone from her face. Impetuously 
she lays her hands upon his arms. “ I don’t think,” 
says she, with a little curious smile in her eyes, “ that 
anyone was ever so kind to me before.” 

“ What a horrible thing for you to have to say 1” 
There is anguish in his tone. ** What can they have 
been like — those people amongst whom you have 
123 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


lived ? Oh, Chloe ! my poor little girl ! I am afraid, 
from all I have heard, that you have been very un- 
happy.” 

“ Very, very.” Her eyes are full of tears now. 
** My poor little girl !” What a sweet, sweet boy ! 
Nobody had ever spoken to her quite like that be- 
fore. 

Well, you shan’t be unhappy any more. And 
you will take this money, Chloe, won’t you? I 
don’t want it, I swear. You know I am agent to 
Lord Daintree, and have five hundred a year — a 
lot more than I use, so you need have no scruples. 
Chloe” — he changes colour suddenly, paling, whilst 
his eyes burn, and his grasp on her hand uncon- 
sciously tightens to an almost painful point — “ would 
you marry a man who had only five -hundred a 
year?” 

Chloe, as if struck dumb, says nothing, but her 
eyes are so eloquent that he goes on hurriedly. 

“ No — listen. My father hates — er — does not 
care for me, as of course you have heard ; but after 
his death — that’s beastly of me, isn’t it? — well, 
however, I shall have something more then, and — 
and we ” 

” Don’t — don’t !” She wrenches her hands from 
his, and. covers her face with them. Is it to hide a 
suspicion of shame in it? If so, the shame is a 
very transient emotion, as a second later she looks 
up at him through the fingers that are now creating 
little bars across her face, and through which her 
eyes are shining. Look here,” says she with a 
little touch of audacious authority, “ I want to tell 
124 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

you something. I cannot — that is — I mean — I don’t 
want to marry anyone — ever^ 

Her manner is so emphatic, in spite of its extraor- 
dinary frivolity, that his heart sinks. 

You are engaged ?” 

“ Engaged ” She pauses : ‘‘ No, no ; I am 

not engaged.” 

“ There is hope for me still, then.” His young and 
handsome face, if a little sad, a little cast down, has 
yet a gleam of happiness in it. 

“No; you must not build on that. I refuse” — 
with a slight touch of hauteur — “ to let you build on 
that.” 

It is the very slightest touch, and scarcely serves 
to stem the torrent of his eager passion. But he is 
very young, and his “ ladye’s will” being the first 
thing with him, he gives way so far as to be silent 
for a moment or two. And, indeed, perhaps, in this 
haven of rest, with the beloved beside him, he might 
have been silent for ever, in spite of this grief at his 
heart, but that a tall figure appearing upon the 
threshold of their ideal shelter changes at once the 
current of their thoughts. Chloe, who perhaps is 
accustomed to surprises, says nothing, and does 
nothing (if a quite friendly smile to the intruder be 
omitted), but Laurence rises slowly. 

“ Dear Granby — so glad,” says Chloe, giving him 
two fingers, “ though I have such a shocking head- 
ache. Come and sit here, near Mr. Lloyd ; /” — with 
a pretty smile at Laurence — “as a rule call him 
Laurence. Don’t I, Laurence ? This is the sweet- 
est place in the world — if one forgets the earwigs. 
125 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


I carried home ten in my petticoat the last time I 
came. But you're not afraid of earwigs, Laurence ?’* 
as she sees Lloyd get up. “ Are you ? No ? Then 
why are you going ? Must you ?’^ Lloyd is looking 
murderous. “ If so — well, good-bye.” 

“ I shall see you to-night ?” In spite of his rage 
at the advent of Carlton — about whom little hints 
are being issued in the neighbourhood with regard to 
Miss Jones — he still believes in her as a true lover 
should — especially a young lover. 

Oh, I’m afraid not.” Chloe looks sadly at him. 
“ I am not very happy, and my head is aching so. 
But you must think of me and pity me when you 
are enjoying yourself.” She dismisses him with 
the sweetest, the most melancholy, the most alluring 
smile. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

“ Impenitent I turn to you.” 

What are you doing with that boy?” asks Carl- 
ton sternly. 

Chloe, conscious of having subjected the ‘^boy” 
to certain experiments, that, if not so stringent or so 
searching as Rontgen’s rays, are still quite sufficiently 
strong to bring to light his secret feelings, grows a 
charming pink. 

“ I don’t see why you should constitute yourself 
my keeper,” says she, with a little touch of hauteur, 
“ You are not my brother.” 

126 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


** I should be extremely sorry to be your brother,” 
returns Carlton calmly. “In the meantime I am 
compelled to consider other things. One’s name 
has a charm for one.” 

“ And you think” — angrily — “ that I ?” 

“ I really am not prepared to go into that,” coldly. 

“ But if you Well, you don’t suppose, really, 

that you can stay here for ever ?” 

“Why not?” 

“ Why not ? Good heavens, do you ever think ? 
Did you ever think in your life ? For example, have 
you thought what you will do when your ready 
money is at an end ?” 

“Of course I have!” nodding her head saucily. 
“ I said to myself long ago that when I was hard 
up I’d write to Gigi — he will look after me. Though 
you would so hate to be my brother, Gigi, still I 
depend upon you. I know you will always help 
me; and I have arranged with myself to write to 
you for more money whenever I may want it.” 

“ And if I should refuse ?” 

“ Nonsense ! As if I didn’t know very well you 
would never refuse me a few shillings !” 

“ Shillings ?” He looks at her. 

“Well, pounds — hundreds of pounds.” She 
laughs, with a little grimace. “ How well you know 
me! There! you’re a friend, aren’t you? — to say 
nothing of being a cousin. And I’d do just the 
same for you, let me tell you, if you w^ere in a hole.” 

“ I shouldn’t ask you.” 

“ That’s very nasty of you,” says she — quite gaily, 
however. “ But I’ve got no pride, thank goodness — 
127 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

not with you, anyway. How you do waste yourself 
over trifles !” 

A truce to this!” says Carlton quickly. *'You 
are playing with that absurd boy. And knowing 
all that I know, I scarcely feel justified in holding 
my tongue any longer about ” 

He pauses, 

“Me? And no wonder! However, remember 
you grave me your word to say nothing.” 

“I know; but ” 

“ All the ' buts’ in the world, Granby, will not re- 
deem you of your promise.” 

“ I made a reservation with regard to a flirtation,” 
sternly. “To aid and abet you there would 
be ” 

“Another pair of shoes,” with a saucy laugh. 
“Yes; but there is nothing in this one; I swear it 
to you. A silly boy like that 1” She glances at him. 
“ Don’t betray me yet, Granby ; give me time. 
This state of things will soon be over.” 

He looks at her frowningly; that brilliant, half- 
wild, half-angry, yet wholly beautiful light now 
shining in her quick dark eyes, what does it mean ? 
He has seen it before. What is she thinking of 
now ? — of death ? — of whose death ? 

“ Chloe, don’t look like that !” he says sharply. 
“Don’t tell me you are longing — waiting for his 
death !” 

“ I am waiting and longing for it always,” returns 
she quite calmly. “ I have nothing else to wait for 
or long for. Think me dreadful if you will — you 
always do^ don’t you? so it will be no trouble to 
128 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


you. But I do hope for it. Still — let me do myself 
one small justice — I don’t so much long for his death 
as for my liberty. Oh, Granby ! death is the end of 
all things ; liberty is the beginning. I want to begin 
— now — now — soon — before death takes me too.” 

Chloe !” He feels aghast at this odd new pas- 
sionate mood of hers — of her who has up to this 
been only all wilfulness and frivolity. 

‘‘Yes. Don’t you see liberty means life, joy, and 
all the rest of it ? I will be free before I die.’* 

“You wish him dead, then?” 

“ With all my heart and soul.” She stretches out 
her arms. “ If without losing hope of Heaven I 
could compass his death, I would do it.” 

“ I hate,’* frowningly, “ to hear you talk like that. 
I often” — he pauses to look at her, to study her beau- 
tiful face — “ wonder whether you have any feeling.” 

“ None !” returns she. “ None ! Don’t waste time 
over your analysis of me. I’m not worth it.” She 
clenches her little white teeth sharply, and then, with 
a sudden flash, turns upon him. “ Feeling — in me ? 
Why, where should I have got it? Beneath my 
good guardian’s care — as a baby — as a child — as a 
girl? or beneath the care of my other good angel 
later on ? They did not sow such silly seeds as feel- 
ing in my heart. Too expensive ! What does one 
give for the ordinary packet of sweet-smelling flowers 
from Daniels’ or Carter’s — half-a-crown, isn’t it? 
But feeling! — consider, dear Granby — feeling is a 
priceless seed to sow. Some stupid, extravagant 
people grow it, I am told. These foolish Fitzgeralds, 
for example ; and ’* 


129 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


Laurence Lloyd,” suggests Carlton, watching 

her. Has she a heart, after all ? Or is it 

Perhaps so,” coldly. ‘‘ He is of their generous 
kind. He, I think, would possibly be recklessly 
extravagant in the matter.” 

“ Would ruin himself over it ?” 

“ I shall not ruin him” — coldly — if that is what 
you are hinting at. As for the want of feeling of 
which you accuse me” — her face changes from its 
late chilly expression to one resembling a small 
thundercloud — “ why, in this particular instance, 
should I shew feeling ? Does one feel for the hand 
that slays one ? And if, as I have said, I often long 
and pray for a death that” — she hesitates, and a queer 
expression darkens her eyes; is it malice? or is it 
only misery ? — “ that will give me life and freedom, 
what Pharisee amongst you all shall dare to rise up 
and condemn me ?” 

He shakes his head, but there is no doubt that he 
gives way a little beneath the impetuosity of her 
attack. 

“ Not I,” says he at last, “ and yet I entreat you to 
throw up this farce and come home.” 

“You have said that before. To which home? 
Both are mine, I believe, and both equally detested.” 

“ The Court, of course, or even to the other ” 

“ To neither,” shortly. 

“ Is it quite useless to argue this matter with you ? 
I have told you that your reputation ” 

“ And his reputation ?” She interrupts him almost 
fiercely. 

“ How can blackening his name make yours 
130 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


better? Of course I know, and so do a hundred 
others, that you would be the last person in the 
world to — to go too far; but your name has been 
connected with Fitzwalter’s, and — Wyndham’s, and 
— people want to know where you are/ I am 
offending you; I” — furiously — *‘am making myself 
damnable in your sight; but I risk that — for you. 
And you know you laid yourself open to scandal. 
Come home, Chloe — do, I beseech you.” 

** Never ! Neither to my guardian’s home — which 
by-the-bye, is mine now — or to that — that other 
guardian’s home.” 

You have quite decided?” 

** Quite.” 

“ Well” — he shrugs his shoulders — so be it. Of 
course” — he is very pale — ” I shall keep to my word 
and not betray you, unless — you know my condi- 
tions.” 

“ Your conditions !” Chloe laughs angrily. “ There 
is nothing in them — no meaning even.” 

No ? There is this, my dear Chloe — that if a 
woman can deceive one man, she can deceive a 
second.” 

Deceive?” She turns a vehement little face 
upon him. What do you mean ? Take care, 

Granby ” She stops, drawing in her breath in 

a sharp, sobbing sort of way. 

“ I know perfectly well what I mean,” says Carlton 
calmly. “ To deceive him (in the worldly accepta- 
tion of the term) is, of course, out of the question, 
and you know right well I never meant to insinu- 
ate it.” 

131 


9 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

“ If you did ” stormily. 

« Well”— deliberately— “ I didn’t.” 

“ He” — the storm is rising — deceived me^ if you 
like — your hateful, abominable uncle. I wonder, 
knowing him as you do, you have the audacity to 
stand there and scold me about my little peccadil- 
loes. Do you know, sometimes — often” — with dread- 
ful vindictiveness — ” I hate you because you are his 
nephew !” 

“ His cousin, I think,” says Carlton. 

“Oh!” — with proud indifference — “it is all the 
same. He’s old enough to be your grandfather.” 

“ I object to that,” says Carlton ; “ I cling to the 
further relationship. But to hate me just because I 
am a connection of his — that’s extremely stupid of 
you.” 

“ You talk to me as if I were a silly child I” frown- 
ing. 

“ Well, that is what you really are.” 

“ I’m not I” stamping her foot upon the ground, 
and now growing even more angry. “ I am suffi- 
ciently grown up to knoiv. And I will not permit 
you to treat me as if I were someone of no impor- 
tance.” 

“ You wrong me there,” says Carlton. “ It is 
because I know you to be of great importance that 
I ” 

“Well?” 

“ That I ventured to speak to you about that boy 
just now.” 

“ About Laurence Lloyd ?” 

“ Yes.” 


132 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

“ ‘ That boy/ as you call him” — her voice grows 
low and very sad — '' was kinder to me to-day than 
ever any creature was before. I told him so. I 
suppose” — defiantly — “you think that wrong too — 
to shew him my gratitude ?” 

“ But gratitude — for what ?” 

“ You will be unjust to him to the end, of course; 
but he thought, poor boy, I wanted money, and he 
offered me not only the half, but the whole of his 
kingdom.” 

“ His kingdom !” says Carlton. Afterwards he is 
honestly ashamed of this. “I could have done 
that for you, and I am your cousin, whereas he ” 

“ Oh ! a sort of cousin !” 

“ Still” — obstinately — “ a cousin.” 

“ Of a sort as obstinately as himself. “ Only a 
little while ago you questioned the desirability of 
giving me money if I wanted it. He — dear old 
Laurence — never questioned it at all.” 

Carlton turns on his heel and walks away: a 
violent word breaks from him. 

It was not meant to be heard, but perhaps she 
hears it for all that, and draws conclusions from it. 
Women, as a rule, are great at conclusions. Anyway, 
she stands still upon the garden path, clasps her 
hands before her, puts on an aggrieved expression, 
and says, very low, “ Gigi !” 

He turns. She knew he would, being always such 
a good old friend of hers ; and with the help of a 
small beckoning finger she finds him in another 
moment beside her once again. 

“ Don’t be unkind to me, Gigi,” says she sweetly. 
133 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ Wait a little ; IVe got such lots of things to say to 
you. And you know you are the only person I am 
able to open my mind to. Tell me — is he going 
away on Sunday ?” 

“So the Major says.“ 

“Very like him to stay longer, however, just be- 
cause he isn’t wanted,” says she disconsolately. “ To 
stay for Wednesday, for example ; the night of Lady 
Matilda’s dance.” 

“ Well?” 

“ I want to go there.” 

“You mean to tell me” — there is a touch of 
amusement in his tone — “ you are desirous of going 
to a mere country dance ?” 

“ Tut, Gigi ! How can you ask such a silly ques- 
tion ? I’m dying to go. A dance in a place like this 
is worth a thousand in other places, where dances 
are held ad nauseam” 

There is a little silence. Then : 

“ It seems to me,” says Carlton slowly, “ as if I 
were seeing you for the first time. When I think of 
you as you were in town — in Paris — and now to 
think of you as contented here ” 

“ Ah ! dwell on me as that,” says she, “ as being 
quite contented here ! I believe I was country born 
in my soul, though the event came off in Park Lane. 
You wonder at me; and I often wonder at myself 
too — this staying here ; but it is rest, Gigi” — a little 
sadness enters her eyes — “ perfect rest after that tur- 
moil. And I have been so tired often.” 

“ I know what you mean. But why take this form 

of disapproval ? Why not go in for a ” 

134 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ No, no !” hurriedly. “ Never ! I have had that 
advice before, but — I couldn't. I can, however” — 
the horrified eyes growing cold again — “ wait.” She 
draws a deep breath and laughs. “ That sounds 
ghoulish, doesn’t it? You think it more dreadful 
than the other alternative? But really it is more 
decent — in my eyes, anyway. There, there, Granby ; 
let us be done with it. The past is past — and 
for the present, I really want to go to Lady Ma- 
tilda’s dance. What a blessing, by the way, it is 
that she never goes to town — in the season !” She 
laughs, and then, with a sudden frown: ‘‘You are 
I sure he is going away on Sunday ?” 

I “By the afternoon train.” 

j “Afternoon?” disconsolately. “I shan’t be able 
I to go to church, then.” 

I “ You” — sarcastically — “ will feel that !’* She 

I glances at him lightly. 

“ I shall indeed. I hate being unkind to anyone. 
And the curate — the poor curate” — she shakes her 
head sadly, if maliciously — “ how he will suffer !” 

“Gossler? I do hope, Chloe” — sharply — “that 
you have not been tampering with him.” 

“Tampering — tampering! what an extraordinary 
word I What’s the English for it ?” asks Chloe. “ 1 
don’t know. Do you? Anyway, I’m sure Mr. 
Gossler will be very sorry if I don’t go to church on 
Sunday. Perhaps he regards me as you do — a per- 
i feet heathen ! If you are both bent on my conver- 
sion, I should think I’ll be a lamb presently. In the 
meantime Mr. Gossler” — with a little moue so irre- 
sistible and charming that he would dearly like to 

135 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

shake her for it, but only laughs at her instead, though 
sorely against his will — “after looking forward to 
seeing me for six country days (you know how long 
they are) will endure abject misery when I do not 
appear on the seventh.” 

“ Vanity, thy name is woman.” 

“ Not a bit of it. What woman on earth, even 
the ugliest, could not by flattery lead that silly 
curate astray ?” 

“ Then why use your spear ?” 

She shrugs her shoulders. 

“ One must amuse oneself” 

“ It is to be hoped that, as you wonT be in church 
next Sunday, the curate will make fewer mistakes in 
the prayers and Lessons.” 

“I expect he will make more!” says Chloe. 
“With one eye on the church door, he will have 
only one left for his book ; so you see what you may 
expect. There, now go ! Go away at once ; I am 
tired of you. You’re about as stupid a person as I 
know — and that is saying a good deal, as I know 
Mr. Gossler. But after all I think I like you, Gigi ; 

I do indeed. And — and There, do go away !” 

She dismisses him with a nod. 

“ I shall see you at Lady Matilda’s ?” 

“ Or sooner.” She nods her head. “To tell you 
the truth, Gigi, I’m dying to see him ! I think I’ll 
run up to-night when you are all at dinner, and get 
a peep someway.” 

“By yourself! at that hour! I hope” — sternly — 
“you are jesting. Now, once for all, Chloe, I shan’t 
allow it! I am in a measure responsible for you. 

136 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


Such an escapade would be disgraceful! Look 
here” — angrily — “ I insist upon your obeying me in 
this matter.” 

Enough I enough I” tragically. As if I should 
dare to disobey you I” She turns, waves a kissing 
hand at him, and disappears. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

“ Oh ! The little more, and how much it is.” 

The night is full of brilliance. Above, the stars 
are blazing merrily; beneath, the whole wide land 
seems clad in a silvery garment ; even the pathway 
through the woods (dense though the leafy boughs 
now make that sylvan way) is clear to the eyes of 
the culprit running over it—great patches of gleam- 
ing light rushing down here and there at odd inter- 
vals, where the branches fail to interlace. 

PTee of the wood, and high up here on the hill 
that runs down to The Glen, and commands a view 
of the sea lying over there so calm and placid twenty 
miles away, Chloe, the culprit, pauses a moment. 
The scene is beyond description fair. It is only 
half-past nine, and as yet the night is scarcely at its 
full strength, although the moon is slowly mounting 
the heavens, and all the stars are awake; for low 
down upon the ocean’s rim the sun is still dying — 
reluctantly, angrily — burning himself out like a great 
fire-opal. The waves beneath shine like a crimson 
flood, and all the great round of the sea is filled with 
137 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


wonderful lights — here pure white, and there foam 
green, and there, beyond, the yellow of a clear fire ; 
and through all these lesser rays shines the glory of 
a red flame that sends palpitating flashes upwards to 
the sky. 

It is a glorious sight, and adds to the courage of 
the girl looking at it, who, to do her justice, is but 
little deficient in that splendid virtue. 

How small, how paltry, how contemptible, are all 
our little doubts and fears, she tells herself, before 
the majesty of such a spectacle as this ! 

But down here, in Major O’Hara’s garden, all is 
different. Here the scene is like fairyland, it is so 
still, so breathless ; and yet with a little under-mur- 
mur of life, as though of elves pattering, running, 
calling, beneath the sleeping leaves. Is it a tiny wind, 
or the sighs of the sleeping flowers, or the coming 
to life of many buds, that are always born in the 
sweet and holy dark ? 

Mingled with the perfume of the small and now 
called old-fashioned” white pinks — since Mrs. Sin- 
kin made her charming appearance — that are just 
uplifting their dear little heads in the borders is that 
of the stocks and the delicate mignonette. The roses 
are sound asleep, and refuse to add to the sweetness 
of the night, perhaps hypnotised by the gaudy 
poppies that are growing so close to them. 

Through the windows of the dining and drawing- 
rooms, that are flung wide open, the lamps are 
throwing their soft rays upon the gravelled paths 
and pleasant greenways outside. Chloe, moving 
138 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


daintily beyond these betraying lights, steps into the 
shadow of a huge barberry, that, standing at the left- 
hand side of one of the dining-room windows, is 
already making a yellow carpet of its blossoms at 
her feet. From this post of vantage she can see 
quite clearly into the room, commanding a full view 
of those within. 

She laughs to herself lightly as she loosens the 
silken wrappings round her head. This is an adven- 
ture after her own heart. And to see him — that 
hateful, hateful creature who had induced her to— 
well, to ruin her whole life — to see him again, has a 
fascination for her not to be controlled. 

Through the open window the sounds of voices 
are coming to her. She sees from where she is 
standing that it is the precious after-dinner hour for 
the men, when the women have gone to the drawing- 
room, and they can converse with each other as 
delicately or as broadly as they will. The hand of 
conventionality has been removed. 

Some 'of the men have risen from the table, and 
have carried their cigars and drinks to the open win- 
dows. Two men have stepped out right on to the 
verandah that runs very near the spot where Chloe 
is standing. 

One is Carlton; the other a short, stout, self- 
assertive, most detestable sort of man, with a puri- 
tanical brow and a cruel lip. A gentleman, however. 

On this man Chloe’s eyes rest, and as they rest 
they grow like living coals. A mad desire to come 
forward and confront the enemy is making her heart 
beat. Almost she takes one step — then stops. 

139 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


Carlton breaks the silence. 

“ Got a light?” 

** Yes, thanks. But with regard to what we were 
saying.” The old, well-remembered grating tones 
strike chill to the heart of the girl hidden behind 
the barberry. ‘‘ I think she has behaved as no decent 
woman would.” 

“ I can’t agree with you there.” Carlton’s voice is 
very cold. He leans back in his wicker chair, his 
elbow on the little table near him, a cigarette be- 
tween his lips, and looks with a distinct scorn at his 
companion. The listening girl below can see all this. 

As his cousin,” says the stout man, “ you must !” 
He leans forward, frowning. 

“And you ?” 

“ And I, as her uncle and guardian, well — I too 
protest against this outrageous behaviour on her part.” 

“Ah! you take that line.” Carlton regards his 
cigarette reflectively. “ Have you ever taken into 
consideration the extent of the provocation? For 
myself” — deliberately — “ I have gone into it, and I 
tell you plainly, I hold her as quite justified in what 
she has done. Very many women in her place would 
have behaved not as she has, but infinitely worse. 
There was that affair of the Reynolds’. Was she 
not justified ?” 

“ What do I care about the Reynolds’ ? I think 
only of this,” says Mr. Blakeney, flinging off the 
Reynolds’, who are indeed nothing to him, with a 
nasty, obstinate sort of smile, “that my niece has 
laid herself open to the voice of scandal. I married 
her well — r-” 


140 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“You married her — damnably !” 

Carlton’s manner, usually so calni and so indiffer- 
ent, now so violent, gives Mr. Blakeney pause. But 
as he gazes at him with keen, half-shut eyes, waiting, 
as it were, for the end of the explosion, the sudden 
storm subsides, and he finds Carlton leaning back, 
indifferent as before, gazing idly at the cigarette be- 
tween his fingers. 

“ I hardly understand you, Carlton. Of course 
you can regard my conduct” — loftily — “ in whatever 
light you like, but I assure you I did the best I 
could for her according to my lights. I don’t know 
where she is now, and I hardly care to know ; but I 
repeat that she has left herself open to the voice 
of scandal. And as her uncle, her only actual rela- 
tion, I feel it, I feel it, Carlton. I have been her 
guardian for so many years that I naturally resent 
such action on her part. See how it will reflect on 
me r 

“ A selfish view.” 

“ Oh, my dear fellow, if you are going in for the 

high morality business ! To be entirely unselfish, 

my good Granby, is to die in a garret. I don’t want 
to die in a garret; and I’m cocksure she won’t, 
wherever she is. If a man doesn’t look after him- 
self, who the deuce is going to do it for him ? And 
as a ward she was uncomfortable, to say the least of 
it. Of course, I hardly expected sympathy from 
you. Yet you knew her for quite six months before 
— eh ? and afterwards too, I think.” 

“ What has that got to do with it ?” Carlton’s voice 
is a little dangerous. 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ Nothing, nothing ! But you did meet her, eh ?” 

** Once or twice” — stiffly — ** before, and frequently 
afterwards. Before she struck me as being a child — 
a mere wild, unthinking child.” 

Ah! just so,” with a shrug of his fat, comfort- 
able, abominable shoulders. He pauses ; takes a sip 
from the glass beside him, and goes on. You can 
afford to moralise, my dear Carlton — ‘The subse- 
quent proceedings can trouble ^ou no more’ (Bret 
Harte, isn’t it?). You have no interest in her, you 
see, but I ” 

“ Exactly so,” says Carlton, rising ; his face has a 
suspicion of disgust in it. 

“Don’t go yet,” says Mr. Blakeney hurriedly. 
“ After all, you see (as I have been trying to explain), 
you have an interest in it — ^you, as heir to the prop- 
erty and title, ought to keep your eye open as to her 
movements. Heaven alone knows what she is doing, 
or who she is with, and ” 

“ Well, sir ?” furiously. 

“ I don’t think” — in an aggrieved voice — “ you 
ought to take that tone with me, Carlton. It won’t 
pay. It won’t really. I can befriend you more than 

any man living ; in fact, I alone can tell you that ” 

He pauses. 

“ Well”— impatiently— “ what ?” 

Mr. Blakeney leans across the table. 

“ I’ve had a telegram this morning. He’s deuced 
bad, I can tell you. A question of weeks, or, by 
Jove, days! Heart.” He taps his own breast, 
which is as sound as a bell. “ Heart always a bit 
shaky, you know.” 


142 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


A little rustling down amongst the tall shrubs out- 
side goes by them. 

Carlton has grown very pale. 

You are sure?” 

“ Positive ! See, here is the telegram !” 

A long silence. Then : 

“ Unsound ?” says Carlton. Even . . . when ?” 

“ Oh, yes, then ! That was why I encouraged the 
match. He was so much older, you see ; and — the 
money is immense ! He is the richest man in Eng- 
land, I think. Of course, I can see how it seems 
to you — you being the heir. But you can’t bear 
malice now. There being no child of the marriage, 
it leaves you ” 

Carlton’s face is livid. 

“ Stop !” commands he between his teeth. 

“ Still on the moral tack ?” says Blakeney ; a little 
nervously, however. He shrinks back in his chair 
as he says it. There is something dangerous in the 
other’s eyes. Yet, what better” — there is distinct 
apology in his tone now — ‘^do you think I could 
have done for her ? I can tell you, if I ” 

Carlton makes a sharp movement of his hand 
that reduces the other to silence. “I know only 
too well what you did for her. You must be mad 
to desire discussion. Answer me this, however : Is 
he dying ? The truth, now !” 

'‘Well” — slowly, taking very carefully no heed 
of the insult conveyed in Carlton’s last words — 
“touch and go, I hear. I’ve had a line from his 
solicitor, who, it appears, had a letter from his 
valet.” 


143 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

His valet — Browne? Pah! What back-door 
business ! Was there no one else to write ?” 

** Well, you know, after all he had the best right. 
She, — Lottie Contralto (Jenkins is her real name, I’m 
told) — she would be hardly likely to, eh ?” 

Hardly.” 

It seems that she — that woman. . . . Awfully 
pretty woman — seen her ?” 

“ Go on.” Carlton’s eyes are blazing. 

“ Well, it seems she — she found somebody more 
to her fancy. After all, Burlingham had seen his 
best days, and — and, in fact ” 

‘‘Why the deuce don’t you go on? She’s left 
him, eh? and with ?” 

“ Well, the valet — Browne, you know.’* 

“ By Jove 1 And he telegraphed 1 And . . . poor 
fool !” 

“ Oh, Burlingham is well out of it I She was a 
regular harpy, handsome as she was.” 

“ I was thinking of the valet,” says Carlton. Then 
suddenly : “ And so it has come to that at the last 
with Burlingham, that his very servants play him 
false. He could not make a friend even amongst 
them. Yet you sold that girl to him — that young, 
fresh life ! My God !” He turns away and strides 
up and down the verandah for a minute or two, then 
comes back. “ I wonder,” says he hoarsely, “ if you 
knew what you were doing. If you did '" — with ill- 
suppressed passion — “you must be a devil incar- 
nate 1” 

“ Look here, Carlton, this news has been too much 
for you. To find yourself so near the title Well, 

144 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


well, well ! I forgive your absurd outburst. I, her 
uncle, did for my niece only what forty mothers were 
prepared to do for their dmighters ! However, we 
won’t go into society secrets. And besides, he’s 
dying now, poor chap, according to that telegram. 
However, Montgomery — he’s over there — in Naples, 
you know, with him, or near him, any way — same 
hotel, I think — wired this afternoon, in return to a 
wire of mine : ‘ Some exaggeration.’ ” 

^‘Ah!” 

“ But I don’t believe it. He’s bound to be in a 
bad way. By Jove, Carlton” — with a disgusting leer 
— “ it would be a devilish good thing for you if he 
did go under, eh ?” 

Carlton has risen finally, now with the open view 
of putting an end to the conversation. He turns 
and looks down on the little fat man, whose would- 
be smile has become vindictive. 

“ What do you mean ?” demands he imperiously. 

** Oh, by Jove !” says Blakeney, with a derisive 
laugh. “The airs of the coming Earl already! 
You should give yourself space. He’s not dead yet^ 
you know 1” 

Carlton’s nostrils dilate. 

“ Get out of my way I” says he in a low tone, as 
he brushes by him. 

All this has been heard by Chloe, standing be- 
neath the barberry-tree. She had begun by being 
interested in a humoursome sort of way; it had 
seemed a play to her — a little delicious scene out of 
a comic opera — as she ran up through the wood and 

145 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


saw that grand scene on the glowing sea ; but as she 
listened (not caring to listen in the beginning — only 
curious to see her guardian once again), and as 
certain words were spoken — certain news declared — 
all her lightheartedness fell from her, and trembling, 
eager, longing, yet fearing, she drank in every word. 

Only now, as Carlton, with contempt and fury in 
his eyes, passes Blakeney on his way into the gar- 
dens, does she so far recover herself as to slip further 
backwards within the shadow of the barberry, and 
even further still, until Carlton’s form has passed out 
of sight. 

Then she too moves away, slowly, as if tired and 
worn and faint, until, reaching a rustic seat beneath a 
tree, she sinks thankfully on to it, and letting her 
face fall forward into her hands, gives herself up to 
thought. 

** He is dying ! Dying ! Dymg^ he said !” 


CHAPTER XV. 

“ And the little less, and what worlds away.” 

A SLIGHTLY unpleasant affair between Tom Lloyd 
and his host had occurred directly after dinner. Tom, 
whose seat was near the door, had risen to open it for 
Lady Matilda, and the Major, in his genial way, when 
the door had closed on Cissy, had moved up into the 
vacant seat next to Tom. But Tom, returning from 
his little expedition, having seen the Major’s friendly 
146 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


intention, instead of returning to his own seat had 
deliberately walked across to the other side of the 
table, where were two vacant places. 

He meant this — though he tried to pass it off to 
himself as being an objection to talk to an old bore 
about nothing for ten minutes — he knew in the 
depths of his heart that he meant this as an insult to 
the Major ; but that sound man and perfect gentle- 
man never saw insults where insults should not be, 
and putting Tom’s action down to a mere blunder, 
and having something to say to Tom that he thought 
should be said at once, rose and followed him. 

“ Look here, Tom,” said he, slipping into the place 
beside him, “I want a word with you.” 

There was a pause, short but eloquent, during 
which Tom regarded with unusual devotion the gera- 
niums in the vases before him. Then, a little inso- 
lently, he looked at the Major. 

Do you ?” said he. In some words there is 
nothing at all to offend — but in the tone. . . . 

“Yes, yes, my dear boy.” The Major had heard 
nothing to offend. “ See here — it’s about Olivia.” 

Tom’s fingers tightened a little on the wineglass 
he was holding. His eyes were carefully lowered. 
He drew in his breath sharply, but inaudibly. A 
very little more pressure of those long firm fingers 
round that delicate glass, and the stem would surely 
have gone. His voice, however, when he spoke, was 
perfectly indifferent. 

“ Discussions bore me,” said he. 

“ Don’t take it like that, my dear fellow. You 
know, Tom, I am a friend of yours, as well as of hers. 
147 


10 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


As for her — well, you know there are reasons for my 
being such a friend of hersr 

Here Tom providentially pushed the unoffending 
glass from him, and put back his chair preparatory 
to rising. This hideous drivel ! Was he to listen to 
more of it? 

“ What I want to say, Tom, is that — er — well — I 

am an old friend, you know ” 

Yes, old ” Tom’s voice was hardly his own ; 

it was, indeed, with difficulty he restrained himself 
from repeating the word old, with an objectionable 
adjective before it, but he did. 

“ Quite so ; an old — a real friend,” said the Major ; 
and I have seen of late, Tom — indeed, for a con- 
siderable time — that you regard Olivia with ” 

He hesitated. Perhaps the younger man’s eyes 
did not encourage him to proceed. 

“ Well ?” Tom’s tone was still low ; but his nose 
and lips were white, and his eyes were flashing. 

“With the eyes of affection. And I wanted to 
say ” 

Tom got slowly to his feet, turning his back to the 
table and leaning against it, so that the other men 
could not see his face. He spoke. 

“ What do you mean ?” he said, his voice thick 
with grief and passion. “ Do you think I want to be 
pitied by you ? See what you like, and thmk what 
you like. Think me an ass if you like ; but” — with a 
bitter laugh — “ I’m not a d d old fool, anyway !” 

This was awful, unpardonable! The Major, when 
he was gone, sat like one who had been struck for a 
minute or two, then strolled to the window. 

148 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


‘'He must be mad!” he said, trying to console 
himself. ” IVe winged my man for less than that 
in my young days. What does the fellow mean? 
Lately I have noticed acts of incivility on his part 
towards me; but this ! — and to me, an old friend! 
Oh !” as if struck again. “ Old! Deuce take me if 
I don’t cut him next time I see him! Impudent 
puppy ! A mere boy — and to so insult me ! ‘ Old 

fool,’ by Jove! And all because I said something 

about Ah !” The Major drew a long breath, 

and suddenly saw visions. “ So that was it ! Poor 
dear chap ! All a mere outburst of misery. Takes 
it worse than I’d have thought, though. Seemed to 

me an imperturbable sort of fellow. But And 

of late, certainly, I have seen that Olivia has been — 
well — a little disagreeable to him ; a little stand-off, 
as it were. In fact, cold to him. No need for that, 
surely ! And in a girl with a disposition so charm- 
ing — to have mercenary thoughts ! Ah, well, well ! 
I shouldn’t have spoken on the subject, I suppose. 
‘ Old fool,’ he called me. Right, quite right, I dare- 
say. But it is high time that an end should be put 
to all this.” 

Meantime Tom, who is still in such a state of mind 
as prevents him from feeling in the least ashamed of 
himself (and, indeed, to whose spirits this last un- 
pleasant quart d'heure with the Major has seemed to 
give a fillip), has made straight for the balcony, 
evading the blandishments of the sirens in the draw- 
ing-room on his way thither. 

Yes ; there is Olivia at the very end of it — he felt 
she would be there — sitting on a low seat, that has, 
149 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


however, an empty one beside it. Is she keeping it 
for that old idiot inside ? No matter. He suddenly 
determines it shall be for him — for a moment or two, 
at all events — and for no one else. After that he 
must leave — immediately. 

To-morrow, of course — with a shrug of his shoul- 
ders — he will write the Major an apology, and, quite 
as of course, he will not accept it. He will probably 
decline his acquaintance for the future. Well, so far, 
so good. So much the better, indeed ! 

Whether Olivia, just at first, had seen him coming 
or not, must for ever remain a mystery. At all 
events, she does not turn her head now at his near 
approach, being seemingly engrossed with the mani- 
fold beauties of the night. However, these last, 
though exquisite, may not be altogether the reason 
of her strange abstraction. The fact that she and 
Tom have not been on speaking terms for quite 
twenty-four hours (a by no means unusual thing) 
may have had a little to do with it. There had, in- 
deed, been a row royal between them only yesterday, 
that left them at daggers drawn; at all events, she 
now sits the picture of immobility, until he is so 
close to her that pretence is no longer possible. 
Then she turns her head slightly, glances at him, 
and without further notice goes back to her rapturous 
gazing at the moon. 

“ Lovely night,” says Tom cheerfully. 

Silence. 

“ I have seldom,” says Tom with ecstatic fervour, 
** seen the chaste Diana so liberal of her charms.” 

Deeper silence. 

150 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


You don’t speak !” says Tom reproachfully, drag- 
ging his chair closer to hers. “ Haven’t you seen 
my classical allusion? Diana — moon, you know. 
But of course you know. She was represented as a 
lady * mit nodings on’ except a kilt and a bow, and 
a spear with which she stabbed her quarry right and 
left ; she was specially dangerous to the old game, 
who couldn’t run away.” 

Silence still, but an ominous rustle and a slight 
movement of the hand. “ Looking for her dagger,” 
says Tom to himself. He could have enjoyed the 
situation but for his rage against her. 

Presently he gets up, and stands right before her, 
thus rather obstructing her worship of the moon. 

“ I fear. Miss Fitzgerald, you have quite forgotten 
me. Pardon my seeming vanity.” His tone is scoff- 
ing now, and ill warranted to do him good in her 
sight ; it is the tone of one who, having just returned 
from a voyage of five years or so, is a little bit put 
out at finding himself forgotten. “ My name is Lloyd 
— Tom Lloyd. And I think I had the pleasure of 
meeting you once, in the Dark Ages, at a dinner 
given by our mutual elderly friend. Major O’Hara.’* 

Olivia turns at last. 

“ I suppose,” she says witheringly, “ you think 
yourself amusing.” 

“ Ah ! don’t be unkinder than you can help,” says 
he. 

“At first”— quickly— “ when I looked at you, I 
thought you were Laurence.” 

“ Is that how you always look at Laurence ?” he 
pauses. “ How you must love him !” 

151 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ Where is he ?” 

“Still mourning over his Burgundy — the little 
attraction, you see, is not here to-night — and listening 
' to the Major’s maunderings.” 

“ I have never heard the Major maunder.” 

“You will, however. You will.” 

“ Major O’Hara, however you may regard him, is 
a very kind and charming man.” 

“ The salt of the earth.” 

“At all events” — with extraordinary emphasis — 
“ he does not speak ill of his friends.” 

“ Is that a mark of worth ? I shall go up one, 
then. Neither do 1.” 

“ Oh — you ! And what have you been saying of 
him this moment?” 

“ My good child, Major O’Hara is not my friend. 
I should choose someone younger as a friend, when I 
was about it.” He is looking straight at her. “ Our 
poor dear Major,” continues he reflectively, “ is not 
— well — exactly my contemporary, eh ?” 

“ He is above petty spite, anyway ! And — he al- 
ways speaks kindly and nicely of you.” 

“ Does he ? How amiable of him ! To be talked 
of ‘ kindly,’ and especially ‘ nicely,’ is about as much 
as one person could endure at a time without dying.” 

“ If you will persist in misjudging him ” 

“ My dear girl ” 

“Don’t, Tom !” 

“ I beg your pardon. I’m sure. Well, my ” 

“ Don’t be vulgar, Tom.” 

“ I think this is a little hard,” says Lloyd. “ I do 
really. And especially when all I wanted was to 

153 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


please you. What I desired to say (when you so — 
er — delightfully interrupted me) was that I think the 
Major is ” 

** 1 won’t” — angrily — have a word said against 
him !” 

‘‘ Why should you presuppose I wanted to say a 
word against him?” He looks at her. word 

against him^ when, you may remember, I spoke of 
pleasing you. A word against the immaculate one ! 
What do you take me for? I know that to even 
breathe a suspicion against him would be to forfeit 
your good opinion for ever.” 

You are quite right,” says Olivia valiantly. There 
is no doubt that her present anger against Tom lends 
strength to her valour. I regard him as ” 

“ I know. Spare yourself. He is in your eyes the 

noblest, the sweetest, the oldest Oh ! er — I beg 

your pardon. No, no; don’t stir; it’s all right, 
really. A little slip — a very little one. And he is 
certainly, as you say, charming. Such profound 
knowledge of human nature. He has gathered it 
up. He has had plenty of time given him, you see, 
to gather up most things. He has even gathered 
up you. No — don’t stir. It was another slip ; the 
smallest. And I really do want to talk to you about 
him. He is such a dear! Don’t you think so? 
Not a friend, exactly, as I have explained to you, but 
a perfect Dear — with a capital. Girls like Dears — 
when their homes are gilded. No” — forcibly hold- 
ing her — ** sit down, and let’s have a nice long talk.” 

Olivia flings his hand from her. 

“ I shall not stay another moment I” 

IS3 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ No ? In such hot haste to go to him ? But he 
is still enamoured of his Burgundy (which I confess 
is beyond reproach); and when I promise, too, to 
talk of him, and of him only ! ... By the bye, I 
have just had a conversation with him.” 

With — Major O’Hara?” Olivia sits down again 
almost unconsciously. 

“Actually — with that great and good man ! whose 
virtues even excel his beauty! Yes — quite a nice 
little talk; and so up to date that I could hardly 
tear myself away from it, even to come — here !” 

Olivia makes another attempt to rise; checking 
it almost at its birth, however. But Tom Lloyd, 
noticing it, with a curious and very bitter smile, goes 
on. 

“ It was, in fact, all about ” 

“About ?” 

“You.” 

Olivia’s face, that up to this has been only angry 
and defiant, now grows agitated, and all at once she 
forgets many things — her contempt for Tom, for one 
thing. 

“ Oh, Tom, no ? ” says she, in a low, frightened sort 
of way. It is a question. 

“ Of you alone — I give you my honour I And 
why not ? The topic was so enthralling that I found 
a difficulty in leaving his portly side.” 

Whether it is the “ portly side” that does it, or an 
hysterical desire for laughter that has been asserting 
itself for the last ten minutes, who can say? but 
certainly at this moment Olivia gives way to a low, 
if irrepressible, burst of mirth. Conquering it sharply, 
154 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

she now looks at him again with eyes that fondly 
believe they are as rancourous as of old — but are not. 

“ I don’t care,” says she, little ripples of laughter 
still running through a tone that is meant to be 
annihilating. ‘‘ 1 shall never forgive you ; you need 
not think it.” 

“ But forgive what ? ” 

*‘Oh, you know. You know very well. You 
think that because I laughed it is all at an end !” 

“ An end — between us ?” 

^^Yes.” 

“ But, my dear girl, I am to conclude, then, that 
there was a beginning ?” 

“You know perfectly well,” with a stamp of her 
foot, “ what I mean ! Do you think I have forgotten 
all you said yesterday ?’* 

“Oh, yesterday! But that is such a long time 
ago. 

“ Long or short, there is an end to all friendship 
between us. That is over, Tom, for ever.” 

“ After friendship comes ” 

Olivia, with much dignity, now rises finally. 

“ Don’t go,” says Tom. “ It isn’t worth your 
while. Pm going at once. Haven’t, indeed, a 
moment to spare.” 

She stops and looks at him in some amazement. 

“ Going now ? So soon ?” 

“Just now,” glancing at his watch. 

“ But Major O’Hara ” 

“ That’s why I’m going. I really could not, after 
my last enthralling interview with him, break the 
spell of its charm by chancing another! No, no; 

155 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


never, my dear Olivia, risk a joy like that, by making 
it too familiar. When you marry the Major, confine 
yourself to one conversation a month with him ; you 
will, I am convinced, find it all-sufficient.” 

^‘I wish you would not speak like that!” cries 
she passionately. ‘‘ It is as though you thought the 
Major and — and — I were ” 

She stumbles here; Tom laughs. Olivia’s face 
flushes angrily. 

“ You are in excellent spirits to-night.” 

*‘True! To-night mv spirits are fairly running 
away with me,” says Tom. “ I told you the Bur- 
gundy was excellent. I say, Olivia, let us cry pax, 
and come down to the garden with me. The garden 
is on my way home.” 

**Very well,” listlessly. daresay I shall find 
Cissy there, and ” 

“ Bethune ?” 

No, Laurence.” 

“ I doubt if he has come out yet.” 

But below they do meet Laurence and Cissy ; and 
joining them, go through the dewy, scented gardens 
towards the shrubberies. Tom, happening to glance 
back, sees the Major and Mrs. Fitzgerald on the 
balcony, sitting in the very two seats he and Olivia 
have just vacated. ‘^Completing the bargain,” he 
tells himself bitterly. “ By Jove ! I shouldn’t have 
.thought it of old Body.” Body, as has been said, 
is the Lloyds’ pet name for Mrs. Fitzgerald. 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


CHAPTER XVI. 

My heart is sad and heavy, 

In this merry month of May.” 

“Dora,” begins the Major somewhat abruptly, 
“ this has been going on a long time.” 

“ A long time ?” 

“ Yes — too long. I suppose you have noticed 
it?” 

Mrs. Fitzgerald leans back where the light cannot 
play upon her face. 

“ Yes, yes,” she says, a little breathlessly. At last 
it is coming ! He is going to propose for 

“ I want to talk to you about Olivia.” 

“Yes,” faintly. She feels herself incapable of 
anything more than this. One stupid little mono- 
syllable. It is coming; and — and what will Olivia 
say? 

“She is now over twenty, I think?” says the 
Major, in his thoughtful way. 

“ A month.” 

“ High time for her to think of marriage.” 

“Oh, surely” — with a little nervous catch in her 
throat — “ it is a little soon to marry ?” 

“ Not a bit of it ! The sooner the better. Good 
for the girl — good for her husband. Marriage keeps 
a young man straight-out of mischief, you know.” 

Mrs. Fitzgerald casts a curious glance at him. 

“ A young man !” Does he Oh, how absurd 1 

157 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


A young man ! James, of all people, to prove him- 
self a fool of that order ! 

No doubt,” she says, a little drily. 

Olivia, as your daughter, has my — well, I may 
say, my honest affection,” says Major O’Hara. 
‘‘ You know, in the old days we were — well, friends, 
anyway, Dora ; and — and when the past comes back 
to me — as it often : indeed” — with simple earnestness 
— “ as it always does — I ” 

** Yes, I know,” breaking in nervously. ‘‘ I quite 

understand. And Olivia James, I want to say 

that — that you are making no mistake about her, . . , 
She is the very dearest girl ! . . .” 

She breaks off, stricken by a sudden thought. If 
Olivia could have heard her thus sounding her 
praises to this man, of all men, what would she 
say ? How would she take it ? Badly — very badly. 
Still, Olivia must be shielded at all hazards from 
the world’s rough blasts. And what a position it 
will be for her pretty darling! Ten thousand a 
year! And not only position, but the honest love 
and protection of the kindest-hearted man in the 
world. 

“ And a beautiful one,” says the Major smiling — 
rapturously — as it seems to Mrs. Fitzgerald. “ She 
has one of the few beautiful faces I have seen in my 
lifetime.” He pauses. Then : “ She is the image of 
you !” says he bluntly. 

Mrs. Fitzgerald frowns. 

“ Nonsense, James !” 

“ She is indeed ! The born image of you ! Each 
moment I see her, I mark the likeness.” 

158 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


As I was twenty years ago, perhaps/' 

/s it twenty years ago? Good heavens! how 
time flies! Well, she’s the image of you, anyway; 
and — and that’s why I’m so fond of her.” 

Mrs. Fitzgerald draws a little further back. She 
stifles a sigh. To remind her so abruptly of those 
old days! If he ss going to propose for Olivia, 
why doesn’t he do it? It can’t be modesty! A 
man who at — well, close on fifty can describe him- 
self ^.s young can have few modest scruples left in 
him. 

“ She ought to make a good marriage,” says the 
Major, after a pause — a little absently, it ^seems to 
her — and then suddenly : ‘‘You know I am your 
friend, Dora.” 

“ My friend ? Of course I know that, James, 
Have you not been my friend all my life ?” 

“A friend — ^yes. But Look here, Dora; I 

would be more than that now.” 

Mrs. Fitzgerald shrinks back into the darkness of 
the shadows behind her. Her son-in-law, he means. 

“ You can hardly be more,” she says in a voice 
that has become a mere whisper. 

“ I could — if you would say one word.” 

“ My dear James ! Consider !” 

She has taken courage from the shadows. “A 

word of that sort between you and me ” She 

stops. How stupid to go on, as if she would deny 
her girl to this best and handsomest of men ! 

“ Well, it only wants one word between you and 

me — ^to — to And why not between you and 

me ? Have I not waited long enough ?” He hesi- 
159 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


tates ; then, anxiously — so anxiously that her many 
fears of the last few months about his having a suffi- 
ciently deep affection for Olivia are completely set at 
rest : “ Shall I say it now, Dora ?” 

Not now,” she cries in a suffocating tone. ‘‘ Not 
to-night. Not — so soon.” 

“ Soon ?” 

‘‘ Oh, I know — I know. To you naturally it seems 
a long time since you thought of it ; but ” 

‘‘You are always putting me off,” says the Major; 
and now his voice sounds sad. “ However, that you 
permit me to speak of it at all counts for something. 
It gives me hope.” 

“ Ah, not too much !” entreatingly. 

“ No.” The Major has grown grave. “ Not too 
much. Hope with me has been deferred for so long 
that I doubt if I shall ever have what I want.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

“ The sky is changed ! And such a change ! O night, 

And storm, and darkness.” 

Carlton had been more disturbed by the news 
given him by Blakeney than he cared to let the 
latter see. Given a chance a few minutes after- 
wards of escaping from him and the others, he 
took it, and walking swiftly through the gardens, 
gained a spot amongst the laurels, usually iso- 
160 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

lated, and now almost sure to be devoid of human 
presence. 

Having reached it, he strolls slowly up and down, 
thinking deeply — so deeply that every now and then 
he stops, as though frowning over some difficulty, 
then strolls on again; always frowning, however. 

For himself, the situation is simple “ The heir,” 

as that coarse old brute had reminded him But 

for Chloe ! 

Well, it should be simple for her too, and certainly 
a solid way out of her difficulties. But the will! 
There is almost nothing he could not leave away 
from her, so little care for her interests had been 
taken at the time. 

There are, besides, certain provisos possible that 
might make that document a scourge to her, and 
Burlingham is quite capable of being as unpleasant 
as possible. And then — the world ; her world and 
his 1 Already, according to Blakeney, it seems it is 
gossiping unpleasantly about her, and, ... of course 
very naturally, too. She has laid herself open to 
that. He himself had heard many things said — 
things that in spite of his efforts, which were really 
heroic, he could not put to silence. He must speak 
to her again — insist upon her listening — and tell her 
that if she will not agree to 

** She,” touching him upon the arm at this moment, 
brings him back to the present with a violent start. 
The little graceful figure has crept out of the dark- 
ness and joined him before he is conscious of its 
presence. 

'‘Good heavens, Chloe! How are you here — at 

i6i 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

this hour?” It occurs to him suddenly that this is 
how he had addressed her on his first meeting with 
her in this part of the world. Is she always to 
present herself to him as a thing of surprises ? And 
— is that her charm ? 

“ Never mind that,” in a low, breathless tone. Is 
it true, Granby ? — is it true ?” 

You — heard, then ?” 

“ Yes ; I was outside the window when you were 
talking to him. I could not resist the desire to run 
up and see the old monster — but, Granby, speak 
with a sudden touch of passion. ‘‘ Is it true ?” 

“ You heard all that I heard.” 

“ And you ?” 

“ I believe it. I have known for a long time that 
— that there was something wrong with his heart.” 

But what do you believe?” 

“ That he is in bad health ; in a very bad way, in 
fact.” 

“ But does that mean that you think he — is 

Why you go on?” stamping her foot. “You 
know what I want to hear. Answer me. Is he ” 

“ Do you know what you are saying ?” coldly. 

“Oh, if you compel me” — passionately — “is he 
dyings then ?” 

“ At this present moment ?” with increasing cold- 
ness. “ I can’t say.” 

“ But you don’t think so ?” watching his face 
closely, fearfully. “You — you doubt it?” 

“Certainly I shall doubt it — until I hear further 
news.” 

“ Ah !” It is a sigh, long drawn out. Is it one 
162 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


of relief or disappointment? Carlton, watching 
her sharply, cannot be quite sure; and with a 
strong desire to make the best of her comes, too, the 
decision that no doubt the news has upset her, and 
that she is really anxious and — well, sorrj/ — in a 
degree. 

“ How could he die of heart disease ?” asks she 
after a moment, slowly. 

“ Many men do.” 

“Ah ! But ke f You know,” looking at Carlton, 
“ he hadn’t one. One can’t die of a thing one hasn’t. 
I” — with sudden vehemence — “ don’t believe a word 
of it. It is only another, and nastier lie, of Uncle 
John’s.” 

“ I don’t think so ; I don’t really, Chloe.” 

He has now almost persuaded himself that she is 
genuinely desirous of believing the best instead of 
the worst. “I expect he is as bad as he can be. 
For years, you know, people have been expecting 

that he Don’t buoy yourself up with the hope 

of his recovery, because ” 

The remainder of his sentence comes to an un- 
timely end. A sharp, cruel indrawing of her breath, 
a little suppressed but violent exclamation has killed 
it. 

A cloud has rushed across the moon, and in the 
darkness he can hardly see her ; but now the cloud, 
that is evidently in a violent hurry, has raced on 
again, and Carlton is once more looking at the 
charming, changeable, insouciant little face. Her 
eyes are resting steadily oi\ his. They seem, indeed, 
as if they have been resting there for quite a long 
II 163 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


time. Is she like a little, soft, pretty cat? Can she 
see in the dark ? The eyes, at all events, are full of 
fire — of anger — of disbelief. So great is this change 
ill them, and so great is the silence too — for where 
Chloe is there is never silence — that Carlton, catch- 
ing her arm, shakes her slightly. 

Are you awake ?” asks he. 

She frees herself violently. 

“Don’t touch me!” She pushes him from her. 
“ Hypocrite 1” cries she. 

Hypocrite I What can he have done to merit such 
an unpleasant title. 

“What on earth do you mean?” demands he, 
both aggrieved and disconcerted. 

“ You know very well. ‘ Hope,’ you said.” 

“ ‘ Hope’ I said beyond question. Well, and ” 

“ Not another word I” She makes an imperious 
gesture. “ You despise me, I know. You think me 
beneath notice ” 

“ I beg your pardon. I ” 

“ Not another word ! You have for years ” 

“ A year and a half ” 

“ Held me in contumely. But I defy you to call 
me a hypocrite. And that term, in my opinion, is 
the worst in the English language — the worst in the 
world 1” 

“ It is to be regretted,” says Carlton with a shrug. 
“ Perhaps in the next, however, you may find even a 
harder word to hurl at my devoted head.” 

“I doubt it. Oh, you can smile if you like. 
Somebody says that people can smile and smile 
and You will end by being a villain, Granby; 

164 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


I can see you will. However, all that has got noth- 
ing to do with this matter.” 

I was thinking that,” says Carlton calmly. Then : 
“ Why am I a hypocrite ?” 

“ Because you said ‘ hope.* Do you — can you — 
knowing everything as you do, imagine for one 
moment that I should hope for his recovery? I 
tell you plainly that the news of his death would be 
the best tidings that any living soul could bring me.’* 

“ Chloe ! Have you no pity, no regret ?” 

“ None, none ! There !” stamping her foot on the 
ground with extraordinary passion. Don’t pursue 
the subject. Do you want me to tell you how I hate 

and loathe him, or why? If I told you why 

But no! He is your kinsman — not mine, thank 
God! — and so — to you I would spare him. Only, 

don’t force me to speak. Ah ! if I did speak ’* 

She pales. Even in the inconstant light of the moon 
he can see that she not only pales but shrinks at 
memories known to her alone. 

“ Do you think it would have been nothing to me, 
if I were a happy woman, to give up life, real life, 
and come down here to this little silly place? It 
would have been a great deal, I can tell you — if I 
had been happy ; but as it was — well, I thank Mrs. 
Gilbert every day of my life for the advice she gave 
me. 

“I am sorry” — hotly — ‘'you ever met Mrs. Gil- 
bert ! She is the very last woman in the world that 
anyone who cared for you would see you intimate 
with.” 

" Yet she is the one woman in the world to whom 
165 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


I can be truly grateful. She has given me a fresh 
and happy feeling. She sent me here.” 

“ To flirt” — contemptuously — ** with Laurence 
Lloyd!” 

“ How rude you are, Gigi ! And what a prig ! 
Why shouldn’t I flirt with someone if I like ? Is it 
a mortal sin ?” 

“ Sometimes ; because someone may suffer.” 

“ At my hands ?” She laughs and holds up the 
offending members, with the slender fingers spread 
wide open, close to his eyes. “ They are too small,” 
says she. ‘*And so am I, in every sense of the 
word. But never mind that. It is too stupid for 
discussion. What I want to tell you is that I am 
happy, quite happy here, with Mrs. Fitzgerald and 
her girls. I love them — I do really, Gigi — though I 
daresay you won’t believe me. You have always 
said you didn’t believe I could love anything or any- 
body. But I do love the Fitzgeralds. If ever — by- 
and-bye, you know — I — well — have things in my 
own hands, I shall try and return them some of the 
kindness they have shown me.” 

Her beautiful face is now soft and sweet as an 
angel’s. Her eyes are pensive — filled with a gentle 
longing. Carlton, looking at her, wonders what sort 
of girl she would have been if in her earlier days 
she had been thrown into different hands. 

*‘What a puzzle you are!” he says, in a slightly 
impatient tone. “Are you ever quite honest? Is 
this only another pose, or do you really enjoy this 
dull, humdrum existence after all the past excite- 
ments ?” 


i66 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ Ah ! Because of them. Though, if you come 
to think of it, this present dull existence — as you 
call it — is only another excitement — something quite 
new. Perhaps you are right, Gigi, and I am nothing 
but a bit of artificiality — a poseuse — a Dresden figure 
— always posturing. But then” — defiantly — ** has it 
ever occurred to you that I never had a home — 
that I never knew what home life was until now 
— and that people with no homes always pose — more 
or less ?” 

Is it defiance or misery that dominates her voice ? 
Carlton, who has studied her almost exhaustively 
during his brief knowledge of her, cannot be quite 
sure. That he is now regarding her with too specu- 
lative an eye she makes known to him with disdain- 
ful brusqueness. 

Trying to read me ? Well — am I saint or sinner ? 
An object for pity or a hardened offender? Give it 
up, Gigi, and learn the truth — I am nothing at all. 
If I myself had to swear to myself, I don’t believe I 
could give a satisfactory answer. I should be hope- 
lessly fogged. Plenty of me^ however, for the mo- 
ment, eh ? Not” — saucily — “ a pleasant subject, am 
I ? Let us, then, as the parsons say, pass on to the 
next head. Is that bad old man, who calls himself 
my uncle, really going on Sunday ?” 

He is going to-morrow.” 

‘‘ Whatr^ 

To-morrow.” 

No !” 

It seems,” says Carlton, that he is running over 
to Naples at once. Starts to-morrow. He would 
167 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


not have come here at all if he had heard of this 
fresh attack ; but the telegram was sent on to him 
here.” 

“ And only for the telegram he would have stayed 
until Sunday. One should be grateful for small 
mercies.” 

“You forget” — with extreme disapproval — “what 
the telegram contained.” 

“ I” — airily — “ don’t indeed.” 

“You must” — with decision — “or you would not 
so speak about it. Oh, come ! Think, Chloe ! The 
fact that Mr. Blakeney feels it incumbent on him to 
go to Naples at once^ proves how serious he considers 
the case.” 

“ Serious ? As I tell you, I never believe in Uncle 
John’s statements. The one thing is that he is really 
going to-morrow. To-morrow ! Fancy ! so delight- 
fidly soon !” There is open joyousness in her whole 
air. “ You are sure ? ” 

“ I have said so. Don’t expect me to approve of 
your manner of taking this matter, Chloe. I think 
it abominable. And I confess I am very uncomfort- 
able about the whole affair; you know that I am 
your ” 

“You are a death’s head,” interrupts Chloe irrev- 
erently. “ I wonder you aren’t ashamed of yourself, 
going moping round like that. So the beloved uncle 
is actually going to-morrow — and straight away to 
Naples ? I hope the cooking will make him ill. He 
is sure to put up at the very cheapest places ; but 

there ” She pauses, and then gives way to a 

burst of low but irrepressible laughter. “ I wonder 

i68 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


what reception * madam* will give him, and how his 
morality will stand her atmosphere. A hundred in 
the shade, isn’t it ?” 

Look here, Chloe ” 

I saw her once, do you know.” 

You saw her?” 

'' Yes ; I told Charlie Blount I should see her, and 
he arranged it. It was at the Savoy one evening. I 
dined there with him on purpose.” 

Alone?” There is extreme disapprobation in 
his tone. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

’Tis woman that seduces all mankind. 

By her we first were taught the wheedling arts.” 

“Quite alone. What’s the matter now? My 
dear Gigi, what a bad mind you have ! For good- 
ness’ sake, don’t put on that shocked air, it is so silly. 
There’s a good deal said about Charlie, I can tell you, 
that isn’t true of himy but is altogether true of many 
another man posing as ultra-good. Anyway, I have 
always found Charlie a very pleasant companion, and 
nothing more ; and one should praise the bridge as 
one goes over it. If it drowns the next passer-by — 
why, then she was a fool to go over it. However, 
that’s nothing. And besides, I had a thick veil on. 
I tell you, I wanted to see my rival — a rival after 
five months of marriage.” She laughs very bit- 
terly. “ And — do you know ? — I used to quite fancy 
169 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

myself! — little fool! Well, I saw her I Such a 
beautiful rival! Not so very much painted — not 
half as much as many of— er— even your friends — 
our friends in society — my immaculate Gigi ! — and 
with a little nose and chin that should — that must — 
carry all before them. Pity” — she pauses, and per- 
haps there is not as much regret in her tone as she 
means to throw into it — pity that there is such a 
thing as time ! She ought to last for ever. Do you 
know, I almost forgave him when I saw her. She 
was like a little ripe peach — or a red, red rose. I 
couldn’t eat my dinner for very love of looking at 
her, and I didn’t go till she did. He fumbled very 
much over the fastening of her cloak — his hands are 
always so unsteady, you know. I thought her such 
a fool for looking at him.” 

Why” — hotly — “ think of her at all ?” 

‘‘Why not? She too is an excitement, and” — 
mischievously — “ you tell me I am fond of that sort 
of thing. Gigi” — with another little laugh that 
almost shakes her slender frame — “ I am thinking 
now of her meeting with Uncle John ! Can’t you* 
see it? /can. Uncle John, at first with a stiff back 
and a proud stomach and an air '' — drawing herself 
up in a pompous manner — “ and then half an hour 
of the siren, who after that orders in brandy-and- 
soda, which Uncle John thinks he had better accept, 
as shewing a Christian and tolerant spirit ; and she, 
wishing to be tolerant with regard to him (poor 
thing, I pity her there !) takes a B.-and-S. with him, 
just for the sake of tolerancy and hospitality, you 
know — and the rest And after that there is a relax- 
170 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


ing of Uncle John’s back, and finally a tableau that 
shews Uncle John all smirks and smiles and madam 
triumphant ! Charming tableau, eh ?” 

don’t care for tableaux of that sort, and you 
could hardly have heard all that was said, or you 
would know that — the woman you speak of has — 
left him.” 

Oh, what a pity ! I had such a vivid picture 
of her and Uncle John. How disappointing you 
always are, Gigi ! And so even she has left him ! 
I’m sure I’m not surprised. Who was the other man ?” 

“It scarcely matters, I should think. You had 
better come back at once, without risking the chance 
of people finding you here.” 

“ I have risked that already. I like risks. I shall 
go back presently, when ” 

“You will come back now” — sharply — “with 
me.” 

“ Indeed I shall not !” emphatically. “ I shall go 
as I came — by myself. Not with you, for anything. 
I’m tired of you and your scoldings. I’m tired of 
everybody, if it comes to that ; and besides, I want 
to be alone — to look things over.” 

“ You shall certainly not go home by yourself at 
this late hour.” 

“ Why not ? I can run all the way through the 
woods, and you know in Ireland one is so safe. The 
genuine tramp is unknown. Now, be reasonable 
for once in your life.” 

“ I shall see you home.” 

“ Obstinate pig !” says Chloe, with a stamp of her 
foot. “ How I hate you, when you take that tone ! 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

And yet” — with a swift and most exquisite change 
of manner and a softening of her lovely eyes — ” I 
don’t, Granby. How could I, when I remember how 
you defended me to him just now? Yes, yes, I 
heard that too. You would not have a word said 
against me. You are very kind to me after all, 
Granby ; and sometimes” — leaning forward and lay- 
ing the tips of her fingers a little nervously upon 
his arm — “sometimes I think you are — almost — 
fond of me.” 

Carlton lays his hand deliberately on hers, and 
raising it from his sleeve, lets it fall. The fact that 
in doing so he has hurt her — has crushed the slender 
fingers between his with a strength, a passion, of 
which in his present mood he is unconscious — is not 
known to him, for Chloe makes no sign. But her 
mood changes, and she grows hard and indifferent 
again. 

“ All that is beside the question,” says he, coldly. 
“ The thing is to get you back to The Hermitage 
without being found here.” 

“I” — almost violently — “don’t care where I am 
found.” 

“ I can quite believe it” — drily — “ but I do. If 
you dislike this surveillance, thank yourself for 
leaving your proper position in society and coming 
to this place.” 

“ Oh, as for that” — with a shrug — “ I have your 
own words for it that I was justified in my action — 
justified’ was what you said. And I fully and 
freely agree with you there, for the first, and prob- 
ably the last, time in my life.” 

172 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


** Are you ready ?” asks he immovably. 

** No, I am not !” She defies him passionately. 

I won't go with you. And I am sorry — Fm sorry 
from my heart — that I said just now I didn’t hate 
you. It was a lie ! I do hate you. See ? ” 

I have seen it always.” The iciness, the extreme 
dulness, of his tone reduces her anger somewhat. 
She looks at him. 

“You have retorts she. “Because I don't 

hate you ; I said that only to vex you. You aren’t 
worth my hatred. Of course I can’t bear you, but I 
don’t hate you. And now go away.” 

“ I am waiting to take you away.” 

“Granby, don’t be a fool!” cries she suddenly. 
“ Can’t you see that if you persist in this they will 
miss you, and I shall certainly be found out, and 

Uncle John will learn who I am, and Do let 

me go back as I came, Gigi ; do now” — coaxingly — 
“ dear Gigi.” She has come closer to him. In her 
anxiety she has forgotten all about her late repulse, 
and has laid her hand upon his arm anxiously, 
eagerly. She is going, perhaps, to add to her en- 
treaties when suddenly she steps back, her face 
changing first to a rose red, then to an extreme 
pallor. 

Four figures have just stepped into the little de- 
serted spot where she and Carlton are standing. 
They must have seen her late attitude, a pose that 
the moonlight made romantic ; her uplifted face, her 
hand upon his arm. They must, too, have heard 
her last words, “ Dear Gigi!' Yes, it is impossible 
to ignore them, or to be ignored. Indeed, one of 

173 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


the advancing four seems to see no necessity for 
concealment. 

“ Ah, Chloe !” cries Cissy, I knew you would be 
lonely at home without us. You should have let j 
me stay with you. Did you run here for want of ! 
something to do? Why don’t you come in? Major 
O’Hara would be so glad. Laurence, will you tell 
him.” She looks round, but Laurence, who had 
been at her elbow a moment ago, is now gone. 

Why, where is Laurence ?” 

frightened him away,” says Chloe with the 
utmost calm. “ He thought I was my own spook, 
perhaps. Oh, I had such a delicious run all through 
the woods and under the moonlight ! Do you know, 
it has quite taken away the last vestiges of my head- 
ache. I felt so bored when you were gone that I 
decided on coming up here to try and get a glimpse 
of you amidst all your wild dissipations — thinking 
not to be seen, you will understand. But this tire- 
some Granby !” She shrugs her shoulders, 

glancing expressively at Carlton. 

If she had expected Granby to back her up, she is 
mistaken. 

Your bed would have been a far better place for 
you at this hour than wandering about here,” says 
he angrily. 

“ I am certain you were born with advice on your 
tongue,” says Chloe with immense disdain. “But 
we can’t all be prosaic, dear Granby, can we ? What 
do you think, Mr. Lloyd?” to Tom, who has not 
spoken, but who is looking at her with an expression 
she divines perfectly. “ Or is it” — as if reflecting — 
174 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


that you are prosaic also ? Do you too, then, think 
this little escapade of mine a crime ? By the way, 
this is the second time you have found me out.” She 
pauses. Carlton’s eyes turn upon her as if startled 
— a fact that does not go unobserved by Olivia or 
Cissy, who look distinctly curious; as for Olivia, 
she is looking at Tom. 

** Found you out ?” It is Carlton who has echoed 
her words. Chloe, delighted with the small sensa- 
tion she has created, breaks into a merry laugh. 

‘‘Twice, Granby; and always in the evening — in 
the treacherous dusk ! Not in any dreadful pecca- 
dillo, however, or hitherto unheard-of crime. Eh, 
Mr. Lloyd? You remember the first time, don’t 
you ? — just outside the gates of The Hermitage?” 

“ Perfectly !” Both Tom’s tone and expression 
are stolid. Who is this beautiful and fantastic thing ? 
From where has she come ? To where is she going ? 
And will she break the heart of that silly fool 
Laurence before she goes ? 

“ I am afraid you have little reservations in your 
mind about me,” goes on Chloe, still addressing 
Tom; she takes a step nearer to him; a gay, co- 
quettish, defying smile is lighting her too-alluring 
face. Her eyes challenge him, and, indeed, they get 
the victory, for Tom, looking into them, feels all at 
once that the fire of his suspicions about her is dying 
away into mere ashes ; and he feels too that some 
man — any man— might be forgiven for thinking her 
adorable. 

Chloe, reading him like an open book, lets him go. 
Another small victory to her, for the moment ; and 

175 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


to him no harm. A perfectly bloodless victory. It 
is possible that she cannot help these desires, that 
the thirst for conquest is in her blood. But she 
knows well that the conquest of to-night will be 
undone to-morrow. That to-morrow, when the 
glamour of her presence is not on him, Tom Lloyd 
will be as prejudiced against her as ever. 

Why not come in, Chloe ?” asks Olivia quickly. 
If Tom had meant to reply to Chloe’s remark, she 
does not give him time. 

“ In this frock ?” Chloe holds out the hem of her 
pretty morning gown with a tragic gesture. “ Would 
you have me spoil the dear Major’s evening ? No ! 
And, Olivia, you won’t say anything about my being 
here when you go in, will you ? or you. Cissy ? I 
know” — with a glance at Tom — that Mr. Lloyd is a 
model of reticence. It sounds so silly of me, running 

up here, doesn’t it ? but I felt lonely really, and 

Will you take me home now, Granby ?” to Carlton, 
who, though he does not shew it, is conscious of ex- 
treme surprise at her sudden change of mind. Only 
a moment ago he should not take her home ; now she 
asks him to go with her. 

“ Certainly.” 

You will have plenty of time to do that and get 
back again to say good-night to Major O’Hara; 
won’t he. Cissy? Well, good-night — for a little 
while.” She kisses her pretty hand to them, and dis- 
appears with Carlton amongst the bushes. 

“ Do you know,” says Cissy, as she and Olivia and 
Tom stand looking after them, “ I think I have 
guessed the whole truth about her ?” 

176 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ If you have, you may pose at once as a nine- 
teenth-century sibyl,” says Tom, who has already 
(Chloe had not counted on so speedy a recovery) got 
from under her spell. 

“Yes; I see it. Her dreadful old guardian per- 
secuted her to marry one man, when she had her 
own” (she refrains with difficulty from saying “ true”) 
“ lover close at hand.” And, indeed, she speaks in 
a clear and most off-hand way of the deepest mystery 
on earth — of love — of the heart of the man — the 
heart of the woman — with all the extraordinary 
carelessness of a young girl who as yet has not even 
tasted the well of life. “ Can’t you see it, Olivia ? 
Mr. Carlton is the lover. And, like a true lover” — 
she has brought the necessary word in here very 
successfully — “ he has defied the guardian and 
followed her.” 

“ Nonsense !” says Olivia. “ Why should her 
guardian object to Mr. Carlton? He is of good 
family, I hear, and very rich.” 

Cissy glances at her. 

“ How you think of money I” says she, not con- 
temptuously, but only as if Olivia were a little stupid. 
But Olivia flushes hotly under her words and — Tom’s 
eyes ! “ There might be some other reason for her 

guardian’s disapproval. Another man, for instance” 
— brightening under the conviction — “ with a great 
deal more money, or a title, or something. Don’t 
you think with me, Tom? Isn’t it quite plain? 
Don’t you see it, Tom ?” 

“ See what ?” 

“ That he is in love with her.” 

177 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ What should I know of love ?” 

“And she?” Olivia asks this question; it is ad- 
dressed to him. 

“ Miss Jones is a woman,” coolly. “ Most women 
are mercenary. If he is rich, be he old or young, 
handsome or hideous, I daresay she will manage to 
fall in love with him. But really I know nothing 
about it, as I have already said.” He looks at her 
deliberately. “ Love has passed me by,” says he. 

“You are right,” says Olivia in a clear, cold voice. 
“You know nothing of love, or women.” 

“ I shall speak to her to-night,” cries Cissy eagerly. 
“ I shall indeed. You two may say what you like, 
but I’m sure he is the hero of her story.” 

“ I shouldn’t speak to her if I were you,” says 
Olivia. 

“Why not? I should think she’d like sympathy. 
And I’m sure Mr. Carlton is the man she loves. 
Anyway, I’ll ask Chloe to-night.” 

And so she does. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

“ Now, all good that comes or goes is — 

Is as the smell of last year’s roses.” 

'‘Got it badly, old man?” asks Tom. He has 
broken somewhat suddenly the silence born of his 
tranquil smoke, and Laurence, lounging half in and 
half out of the window, starts slightly, as if from 
178 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

thoughts not altogether happy. It is Sunday after- 
noon, and as stilly” as that “ night” we are always 
singing about. 

Got what badly ?” The tone is distinctly aggres- 
sive. 

It. The inevitable 

“ I don’t understand you.” 

Not you ! You’ve got Miss Jones upon the 
brain, and you know it. That’s your disease, 
eh ?” 

Oh, don’t talk rot !” 

My dear fellow ! surely a very rude word to use 
in connection with her ! For it is of Miss Jones we 
.speak.” 

“ Don’t be an ass !” Laurence’s face is furious as 
he turns it on the other. 

Tom laughs. 

'‘Worse than I thought, even,” says he. “Too 
late to chuck it, I suppose ?” 

“You think” — Laurence is now very angry — 
“ that I am in love with — with ” 

“The irresistible Chloe. Well, so I do think. 

But I think too that ” Tom pauses here. It 

is a nasty thing to say, but to say it seems impera- 
tive — “She is not for you, Laurence. She is ‘for 
your masters.’ ” 

“ D — n it, man, can’t you speak out ? What do 
you mean ?” 

“Well, I will speak out if you like,” says Tom. 
“ Can’t you see that her name was never Jones, and 
that she’s a stranger to country life, and that ?” 

“ That ? Go on, can’t you ?” 

12 179 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


That Carlton is a very rich man, so far as I can 
see. You” — he looks at the other very kindly and 
sadly — “ would have small chance against him.” 

“You mean that she ” 

“ No, indeed ! I mean that he Take a run 

over to Canada, Laurence, and free yourself from 
this disastrous affair.” 

“ I don’t believe a word of it !” says Laurence 
fiercely. “Not one. Just because last night you 
saw her go home with Carlton, you judge her with 
this infernal unfairness. You think because of that, 
that she ” 

“ My dear fellow, I don’t judge her at all. I 
shouldn’t presume to do so.” 

“ You do, for all that. You make her out un- 
worthy, disreputable.” 

“ I don’t, indeed.” He remembers that moment 
last night when her beautiful compelling eyes were 
on him, and how he went down before them — to the 
extent, at all events, of believing in her as being 
human; and — well — he is true still to what he 
thought of her then. A brilliant, destructive little 
creature, perhaps, but with great good in her, and 
much charity — and charity covers such a multitude 
of sins ; and surely her sins are light. Almost he is 
on the point of sounding her praises to Laurence, 
when he pulls himself up. “ I think only that we 
know nothing of her, and that — she strikes me as 
being a somewhat tricky sort of young woman.” 

Laurence bursts into a rather wild, disagreeable 
laugh. 

“ What do you know about her ?” says he. 
i8o 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


''Nothing, as I have said. And you — what do 
you know?” 

" I can see ” 

" Can you ? Have you applied the Rontgen rays 
to search the depths of her soul ?” 

Laurence with a very white face turns upon him. 

" Sneer away,” says he. " As for me ” 

"Was there a sneer?” says Tom quickly. "You 
rush the question, don’t you ? No ; I have no desire 
to sneer, but I tell you, this girl who calls herself 
Miss Jones ” 

" If” — passionately — " she calls herself Miss Jones, 
she is Miss Jones !” 

Tom’s eyebrows go up a bit, but he makes no reply. 
He smokes diligently for a little while, then : 

" Go for a trip,” says he ; " if not to Canada, well, 
then to Africa, or — Australia. I’ll square the gover- 
nor over the money.” 

" Why should I go ?” says Laurence, his face dark 
and angry. " One would think I was a fool, or a 
baby !” 

Tom laughs. 

" Not a baby.” 

" A fool, then.” 

" My dear boy, you describe every man in your 
state to a nicety.” 

"I like” — angrily — "to hear you talk— you, who 
have never been in love with anyone I Why, what 
do you know about it ?” 

" Lookers-on see most of the game.” 

" After they have learnt it.” 

There is a little pause, and then Laurence, moving 

i8i 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


towards the door, says, still with a frowning brow 
and angry air : 

“ I am nothing to her, and she is nothing to me.’* 

His hand is on the door. 

Tom looks back at him. 

“ Is that why you are going to her now ?” asks he. 

Laurence, not vouchsafing a reply (had he one ?), 
slams the door behind him, and Tom, still leaning 
against the chimney-piece, falls into thought. 

Both in the same boat,” thinks he. “ Poor old 
Laurence! Couldn’t fancy me in love. Well” — 
rousing himself with a short and disagreeable gesture 
— I don’t fancy myself when in it, if it comes to 
that. Pshaw I What asses we both are ! And 
with all my eloquence I haven’t given my brother 
so much as one shove up on the right road,” 


CHAPTER XX. 

Oh ! all fair lovers about the world, 

There is none of you, none, that shall comfort me.” 

Chloe had not gone to church in the morning, 
although Carlton had assured her that Mr. Blakeney 
would leave Aughribeg on Saturday. She had not 
been able to hear of his actual going, and she thought 
it better to have another headache rather than risk 
the chance of meeting him. And now, though 
it is drawing towards six o’clock, she still keeps her- 
self a martyr to neuralgia, refusing to go out with 
182 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


the girls and Mrs. Fitzgerald for the walk they 
usually take on Sunday evenings. 

There is a huge white rug in one of the pretty 
old-world windows of The Hermitage, and on this, 
with the help of a cushion or two, she has ensconced 
herself, a book (presumably for reading purposes) 
upon her knees, but her eyes are fixed not on it, but 
on the lovely world outside, where she can see far 
off the silvery firs silhouetted clearly against the 
fleecy sky, and here, just below her, the flowers 
flaunting their many hues, their exquisite breaths. 
Over there is a vision of 

“ Brooks that sing by brambly ways,” 

and here, close to her, in the dear old shrubbery on 
her left, a thrush on a bough is singing paeans to 
the heavens above with all his might and main. 

She settles herself more cosily into her self-made 
nest, and lazily lets thought run riot. The hour, the 
intense stillness — all tend to drowsiness ; the very 
perfumes from the garden go that way ; indeed, 

“ The gentle air, sae ladylike. 

Has on a scented gown,” 

and over everything a little mist of warmth, of sleep, 
is lying. 

But Chloe, amidst her pillows, is wide awake. 
Her lovely eyes, always a splendid violet, though at 
times of anger or emotion almost black, are looking 
over the hills and beyond them— in search of what ? 
Her lips are closely pressed together. 

183 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


Suddenly, as if some thread in her thoughts has 
snapped, and having gone to pieces has made room 
for another — a merrier quip — she laughs aloud, and 
throwing up the hands that had been so firmly, 
almost cruelly, clasped upon her knee, flings them 
above her head and behind it. The little scene of 
last night between her and “ the girls,” as she always 
calls them, comes back to her. 

They had been so sure ; they had quite arranged 
it, indeed. She could see that Olivia, at first, had 
been somewhat uncertain, but that Cissy, later on, 
had converted her to her own belief. 

“ We know it all now, Chloe. We have guessed 
it,” Cissy had said; and then she had told Chloe 
what she had guessed about her and Carlton. A 
most romantic tale. Chloe had covered her face 
with her hands. Overcome by emotion. Cissy said 
afterwards. Olivia, however, had not been so posi- 
tive. But neither of them had guessed that Chloe, 
beneath the veil of her hands, had been convulsed 
with laughter. She had conquered that irrepressible 
burst of mirth sufficiently to be able to raise her 
face presently and tell them that they had promised 

before she came not to ask questions ; not to- ” 

No, no, no ! Of course they would say nothing.” 

“ Not even to Tom or ” 

Not even to Tom or Laurence.” 

She, however, had not mentioned Laurence. 

Here now, lounging amongst her cushions, she 
laughs afresh over that silly scene. Fancy their 
thinking her in love with Gigi ! It is even funnier 
to think that they believe Gigi to be in love with her ! 

184 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

That dreadful old Gigi ! who regards her as a mere 
peg on which to hang his hateful scoldings ! Any- 
way, she has put them “off the scent,” as hunting 
men say; and that is a point gained. It seems 
specially worth gaining, now that Mr. Blakeney has 
been so near, and yet, thank heaven, is now so far ! 
Once let everyone get their minds on to the fact that 
she is in love with Granby, or he with her — it really 
doesn’t matter a little bit which — and the real truth 
will be thrust into the background, until 

Oh, that’s all nonsense! Heart, indeed! Pouf! 
Pity to waste a thought over it ! 

And so they think she is in love with Granby! 
How comic! However, it will be just as well that 
they shall not declare their thought to anyone. 
She has put them on their honour. She has specially 
mentioned for silence Tom and Laurence. Poor old 
Laurence ! She laughs again here, as if 

Her laughter is still upon her lips as Laurence, 
who has entered by the lower window, strides up to 
her. 

His face is very white ; his eyes seem to burn into 
hers as she looks back at him from her little snow- 
white nest amongst her cushions. “ What an awful 
temper he has !” she says to herself, as she looks up 
at him, blandly, sweetly, in no wise put out by his 
blazing eyes. 

“ Is it true ?” asks he hoarsely. It is not a ques- 
tion ; it is a demand. 

“ Is what true ?” She smiles up at him. A little, 
slender, defenceless creature, with only her eyes and 
her mouth and her whole personality to ward off the 
185 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


angry wrath of an almost murderous man. **The 
Armenian question ? The Cuban absurdity ? The 
Venezuelan riddle? The Soudan? — we must wait 
awhile for the last, but it will be a triumph at the 
end. Don’t you think so? Ah! you are not 
English. Still ” 

She has warded it off very brilliantly so far, but 
after all one can only go “so far” and no farther, 
when the tide is sweeping down upon one. 

“ Listen to me,” interrupts he. His tone seems to 
break away for ever her petty attempts at stemming 
the rush of his rage. “ I have one thing to ask you 
— only one. Is there anything between you and 
Carlton ?” 

Chloe, lifting her brows, seems to be lost in specu- 
lation. 

“ Now, who has suggested that to you ?” asks she, 
after a little while, and with an air of the deepest 
interest. 

“ Answer me I” returns he hoarsely — roughly, 
indeed. 

“Under what penalty?” She smiles up at him 
with slow defiance from her rug and her cushions. 
What a fool he is, after all, to think of bringing her 
to book like this ! “ How you look 1” with a saucy 

glance at him. “Your money or your life sort of 
business.” 

“ Answer me,” says he again. 

“I shall answer you when I like, and when I 
understand. How uncomfortable you are, Lau- 
rence! Standing in this hot weather is always so 
sure to Well, you know, it is so bad for the 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

temper — though your temper is always beautiful. 
Now, do take a chair — this one, this one near to me 
— and tell me all about it. By the bye” — very anx- 
iously — “ have you had tea ? No ? You won’t have 
any, really ? Well, if you won't ” 

‘^Is there,” repeats he doggedly, “anything be- 
tween you and Carlton ?” 

“ The same question !” She smiles again. “ And 
what if I refuse to answer it ?” 

“ I shall know that there is.” 

“Yes? Well, I refuse.” 

“ Chloe !” 

At this her smile broadens into a laugh. 

“ Is that going too far ? At all events, I shall not 
answer your question until you have answered mine.” 
She leans forward. “ Who put this idea into your 
head ? Who” — slowly — “ told you ?” 

“ Ah !” with a quick anguish. “ It is true, then ?” 

“I haven’t said so. Who told you? — Cissy? — 
Olivia?” 

“ No.” 

“ Mr. Lloyd ?” 

He hesitates. 

“ Ah ! Mr. Lloyd.” She is silent. Her mind has 
run off to Tom — to that last meeting with him. He 
had not been, then, so enslaved as she had imagined. 
Ah I One for Tom as soon as possible. 

“Mr. Lloyd, one can see, is always right. Of 
course there is something between us. Granby is my 
cousin, you see, and a cousinship, however distant, 
counts for something ; but ” 

“ This is prevarication !” cries Laurence, fiercely, 
187 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


and then goes off at a tangent. His misery has 
reached the furious stage. She has admitted that, if 
not actually engaged to Carlton, there is, at all events, 
something between them, and this, clashing with the 
memory of how he had offered her that paltry sum 
of money, believing honestly that she was in need of 
it, cuts him to his heart’s core. He stands looking 
down on her, pale, wretched, his face all too eloquent, 
a storm of passionate reproach upon his tongue. His 
words seem to burn themselves into her brain. So 
then she had known when listening to his silly offers 
of help that help was at her hand. She had even 
pretended to be deeply grateful for the stupid offer ; 
and all the time — all the time — (choking) she had 
known she had only to say one word to the man she 
was virtually engaged to to get all she wanted — if, 
indeed, she ever wanted anything. No doubt she 
and Carlton had laughed secretly over his presump- 
tion, his 

But now Chloe has sprung to her feet. 

‘‘ How dare you talk to me like that !” She turns 
her flashing eyes on his, and all at once it seems to 
him that the Chloe of a moment ago — the Chloe he 
has always known — has disappeared, and in her place 
is a small, imperious, haughty creature, who has been 
accustomed to find her lightest word a command, her 
very glance of immense importance. 

A second, and it is over; her eyes are again 
smiling, indifferent, and she has again dropped with 
a soft, amused laugh to her rug, curling herself 
up there like a little white kitten — a kitten with 
claws. 


i88 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


‘‘ What is it all about ?” asks she, looking up at 
him sweetly. “ You are angry with me because you 
found me with Granby in Major O’Hara’s garden the 
other night? Well, why shouldn’t I be there — with 
him, or anyone else for that matter ? What is it to 
you?"' 

Don't!'" says he, as if she had stabbed him. 

“ Oh, nonsense !” airily. “ How can any act of 
. mine touch you? Just consider.” She leans to- 
wards him, and raising her eyes, that are now filled 
with a mocking light, fixes them on his. “Only 
|i think of the category under which you have placed 
me from the beginning. You come here to-day to 
I accuse me of double-dealing, of deceit, of all sorts 
of horrible things ; but you should remember that 
you expected all this.” 

Expected?" 

“ Why, yes !” arching her brows. “ Can’t you see 
you are only being true to your first instincts, your 
first thoughts of me? ‘An adventuress’ was what 
you called me, as I came towards you on the after- 
noon of my arrival. Surely that was the pretty title 
you gave me. It was a new one (I have had many), 
but it was so new, so full of promise, that I assure 
you I was unable to forget it.” 

“ This is ungenerous !” He has coloured a dark 
red, but he does not attempt to deny her accusation. 
“ I had not seen you when I said that.” 

“ Surely, therefore”-— lightly— “ the ungenerosity 
lies with you ! Not having seen me, you still con- 
demned. However” — rising gracefully — “it doesn’t 
matter at all. Nothing ever matters really, if one 
1 89 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


could only try and believe it.” She moves towards 
a writing-table. ” I don’t like to seem rude ; but — 
you can’t want to stay here any longer, and I have 
a few letters to get off before to-morrow’s early 
post.” 

Is that a dismissal ?” The misery in his tone, if 
still curbed by a touch of anger, is quite open to 
her. Hesitating, she lifts the pen she has taken up 
(with a rather cruel intimation to him that he had 
better go away), and nibbling the feathers, glances at 
him over it. 

“ Aren’t you a silly boy ?” says she. 

I don’t know about that,” gloomily. “ I feel a 
mad fool, anyway.” 

She looks amused. 

** So good of you to put the * mad’ like that, and 
not the other way round. ‘ D-a-m’ is a horrid word. 
Shews such nice feeling. Nicer feeling than I have 
shown, eh ?” 

This little bit of persiflage he lets go by him. 
One thought alone is in his mind, and again he 
gives voice to it, in different language. 

“You called him Gigi.” 

“ Did I ? How remiss of me ! it is very naughty 
to call one’s cousin by a nickname, isn’t it ?” 

“Chloe, tell me! Don’t” — vehemently — “send 
me away like this.” He is now bending over her, 
as she sits with her pen straggling uselessly, object- 
lessly, over the paper beneath it. “ Don’t trifle with 
me. Are you engaged to Carlton ?” 

Something in this question seems to strike Chloe 
as curious. She colours swiftly, vividly, and the 
190 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


look of one who has just listened to a most amazing 
and absurd suggestion expresses itself on her mobile 
face. 

** What !” Her tone is so full of this new extreme 
surprise that for a moment he takes courage. As 
for Chloe, now that her astonishment is at an end, a 
sense of the ludicrous comes to her. That he should 
be jealous of Granby, should even go so far as to 
believe her capable of having a tenderness for him, 
was quite possible, and, indeed, natural, considering 
all the silly circumstances that have surrounded 
them since Carlton’s coming; but that he should 
think of Granby as caring for her, as engaged to her 
— to her ! 

She leans back and laughs until her slender frame 
literally trembles with mirth. Oh, if Granby could 
only hear ! 

Olivia and Cissy had hinted at an understanding 
between her and Gigi ; but to hear the word “ en- 
gagement” ! Are they all mad together ? Can’t 
they see ? Why, he despises her, thinks her frivo- 
lous, heartless. Only the other day he had con- 
demned her for her want of feeling. Does he ever 
lose an opportunity of scolding her? And as for 
loving her — why, to-night when she had said to him 
that — that she thought he might be fond of her, he 
had thrust her aside ! ... Her laughter comes to a 
sharp ending. 

Well — are you ?” says he doggedly. 

** Nonsense !” She has picked up her pen again, 
and has gone back to her scribbling of her own name : 

Chloe.” She is thinking not of what she is writing. 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


but of this stupid mistake of his and of the Fitzger- 
alds, and keeps on scribbling “ Chloe” idly. 

“ Why,” cries he — passionately — “ can’t you 
speak ?” 

A sceptic to the end !” She looks up for a mo- 
ment, and, as if impelled to mischief by a sight of 
his anxious face, goes on very slowly and impres- 
sively: Must I answer? Will you hear it, then? 
Yes? Then brace yourself. You are sure you 
would not like to wait until to-morrow? No? 
Well, your blood be upon your own head !” 

Go on,” hoarsely. 

If you will have it ” 

She breaks off with an apparently heavy sigh, as 
if fearful for his sake of giving the final word. 

It is ‘ Yes’,” says he, his face very white. 

A bad guess,” she laughs. My dear Laurence, 
it is ‘ No.’ ” 

He draws a long breath. He would perhaps have 
clasped her hand, but that it is still moving carelessly 
over the paper beneath her, and because too, perhaps, 
of something in her calm and indifferent pose that 
forbids ecstatics. Then all at once his high exal- 
tation dies away, and he finds himself once more 
thrall to suspicion. 

“ Is that true ?” 

She stops her scribbling for a moment to give him 
a curious glance. 

** I am sure you don’t quite know how rude you 
are. You must believe me or not as you will.” 

She is a little angry now, and her pen begins to 
write faster and faster, yet only “ Chloe.” Nothing 
192 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


more seems to occur to her, though as a fact she is 
thinking of herself at this moment far less than of 
anything else in the world. She is not thinking of 
Laurence either, or of anyone, for the matter of that ; 
only of that ridiculous idea of her being engaged to 
Gigi. Gigi, who has always 

A hand laid suddenly on hers, holding it down 
upon the paper, brings her back to the present. The 
pressure of Laurence’s hand is unhurtful, but dis- 
tinctly masterful. 

“ What is the truth now f ” His voice, low, pas- 
sionate, is at her ear. Involuntarily, after the first 
swift, unavoidable glance upwards of angry inquiry, 
her eyes go back to the page before her — the page 
on which her hand is being held. And there she 
reads “ Chloe Carlton.” 


CHAPTER XXL 

“ I thought as much. This comes, you see. 

Of sentiment and Arcady.” 

It appears, indeed, as if she had condemned her- 
self. How could she have written that ? C. B. is her 

usual signature; and yet Carlton It must be 

confessed that at the first moment she is a little taken 
aback at her own stupidity, and for an infinitesimal 
space of time is silent. Then .she looks up at him 
with a smile, that is amused if anything. 

“I feel like one of those delightfully interesting 
193 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

people who in the Dark Ages were found out cheat- 
ing at cards, and had a dagger stuck through their 
hands to — fix the crime, was it ? There, take away 
your hand, Laurence ; it hurts me.” 

He withdraws his hand at once. His eyes, how- 
ever, he does not withdraw. 

She springs to her feet. 

Well, well, well !” — impatiently — what does 
your face mean ? What a look ! — as if I were the 
most advanced criminal of my year, and that you ” 

‘‘ Carlton ! Is that your name ?” 

“ My name is Jones !” with distinct defiance. 

** Is that true too ?” asks he cynically. His eyes 
are burning into hers. Is it contempt that lies in 
them ? Alas ! if it is, it is not the contempt to save 
him. “Do you think” — in a low tone — “that you 
can deceive me still? Tell me the truth, Is 

Carlton your real name ? Are you married to him ?” 

Chloe frowns, and again that swift flush dyes her 
face. Good heavens ! What fools there are in this 
lovely world ! Married to Gigi ! The thought has 
never so much as presented itself to her before, and 

now — now She turns to Laurence, her face 

very cold and unkind. 

“ I think you hardly know what you are saying.” 

“I do, however 1” violently. “And you shall 
answer me ! Are you married to Carlton ?” 

“ My word seems to be of such small account to 
you that ” 

“ Speak !” 

“ Well, then” — with an imperious glance — “ no.” 

“ Or engaged to him ?” 


194 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ Not even so much.” 

He comes closer to her. 

“ How can I believe you ? A last word— a last, 
Chloe. Are you engaged to anyone ?” 

She takes a moment to answer this. Her thoughts 
have flown backwards. Is she engaged in any 
sense ? 

“ No” — calmly — I am not engaged to anyone.” 

“ I wish I dared believe you,” says he under his 
breath. She hears him, however. 

“ I think you dare a great deal !” Her eyes are 
now flashing. ‘*You have dared more than most. 
What do you mean, Laurence? Do you desire a 
quarrel with me ?” 

She is facing him, her beautiful head thrown up, 
her eyes on his. 

“ Not that. I would only know the truth ” 

The truth ! After what she had told him ! Does 
he still doubt ? 

“You get singularly near the quarrel,” says she 
coldly, drawing back. She seems suddenly to have 
grown into quite a tall Chloe — a Chloe with frowning 
eyes and a hard mouth. The touch of hauteur that 
had so surprised him a while ago returns again. It 
no longer surprises, it only maddens him and serves 
to heighten the passion of rage and jealousy that is 
consuming him. At once, and disastrously, he loses 
his entire self-control. 

“ Better to quarrel with you than be your dupe 

The words and tone are insolent. She can see 
that he is almost beside himself with grief and fear; 
But to her — to speak to her like that ! 

13 *95 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“My dupe!” She repeats the word very slowly 
and delicately. His insolence had been blunt ; hers 
cuts to the very heart. It sounds as though she 
considers it unparalleled impertinence on his part to 
think he could ever be so much to her as even her 
dupe. 

Then her mood changes. They are swift in 
changing. Always a capricious creature, without 
training of any sort, or else bad training, she has 
ever let herself go as the fancy took her, and is 
merry or melancholy, charming or insolent, tender 
or unsympathetic, within the hour, just as the hour 
suits. A moment ago it suited her to be angry, and 
now the weariness of all things comes to her. 

Why be angry? Is anything worth so deep an 
emotion ? Give him a little stab and let him go. He 
is only one fool amongst the many. 

“ Dear Laurence” — smiling faintly, and with dis- 
tinct boredom — “ you are in a frightful temper. That 
you admit, of course. But perhaps you don’t know 
the reason why. Shall I tell it to you ?” 

“Why should you trouble yourself?” 

“It is no trouble,” sweetly. “If, however, you 
are afraid to hear it ” 

“ I don’t think so,” coldly. 

“ No ? Well, hear it, then.” She has clasped her 
hands on the frame of the chair behind her, and now 
leaning back against it, surveys him with an amused 
air. “ You are in a bad temper, and you are angry 
with me, not because you think me deceitful, or un- 
truthful, or fast, or dreadful in any way, but just 
because you think you are in love with me.” 

196 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


He takes a step towards her, but she waves him 
back with one hand, laughing lightly, and without 
for a second disturbing her somewhat insolent pose. 
** Now, now — deny it if you can. If’" — throwing her 
head still further back, and glancing at him through 
half-closed lids — ** if you dare T' 

Her whole air is taunting, cruel. As he turns to 
leave her she laughs again, not loudly, but in a low, 
satisfied fashion. Yet even before the door has quite 
closed on him a reaction has set in. Once again her 
mood changes. 

Oh ! she has been bad to him, poor boy ! Only 
a boy after all, if a very rude one. She must make 
amends before he is quite gone. All night, perhaps, 

he may be thinking Oh, no ! she will not resist 

this impulse to try and smooth away the troubled 
waves of her own making — to restore him to a 
happier frame of mind. 

The impulse to restore herself to the old place in 
his heart is perhaps a deeper feeling still, and nearer 
the truth, but she does not acknowledge that. 

Running to the window at the lower end of the 
room — the window that overlooks the avenue — she 
throws it up and waits. 

Laurence must go by the rhododendrons over 
there. Ah ! there he is ! As he reaches the bend 
in the avenue on which her eyes are fixed, she leans 
forward and calls to him in a clear, sweet voice. 

Laurence !” 

He turns. His face is white and wrathful, and 
older, surely, than it ought to be. It strikes even 
her unrighteous soul with some sort of pity. It 
197 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


strikes her too, however, as being comical, which 
rather spoils the first effect. 

She cranes her pretty neck a little further out, 
and some of her body with it, and waves him a little 
kiss with her right hand. 

“Didn’t I tell you you were a silly boy?” cries 
she gaily, and waits for a reply. 

But no reply comes. After that first involuntary 
movement in her direction he had turned on his heel 
and gone on his homeward way. Had he even 
waited to hear what she had said ? 

Chloe frowns. What a temper! Not even a 
backward glance ! He had gone away as if capable 
of forgetting her — of throwing her out of his life 
for ever — of — even disapproving of her, like Gigi ! 

Gigi I How curiously his name had come in to- 
day I Engaged to him ! Married to him ! Fancy 
being married to Gigi I Good heavens ! what a life 
he would lead her ! — or is it that she would lead him ? 
Gigi, who has always been so horrid — so preachy — 
so 

“Oh, well” — with a little stamp — “all men are 
horrid 1” She tries to take great courage from this 
thought. Yet it is with a little beaten feeling she 
turns to leave the room, and as she walks into the 
hall she finds old Feeney looking through one of 
the windows with a deeply sorrowful expression in 
her dark Irish eyes. Had she been watching the 
going of Laurence? The old woman is so en- 
grossed, either with what she has seen or the 
thoughts arising from it, that she hardly hears 
Chloe’s footsteps until the girl is at her elbow. 

1 98 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


What, Feeney !’* cries she gaily. ** Watching a 
young man ! — and on a Sunday afternoon, too, when 
you ought to be telling your beads. Oh, Feeney !’* 

Feeney bends a reproving eye upon her. 

Twas lookin’ afther him I was surely,” says she, 
"^an’ divil a throt I could see in the walk of him! 
’Tis like an ould man he wint.” 

“Tired, perhaps,” suggests Chloe sympatheti- 
cally. 

“ Aye ; dead tired, heart an’ sowl, poor boy ! 
Faix, ’tis well ye know it ; an’ why for no, since ’tis 
yer own doin’.” 

“ Nonsense, Feeney ! Come and sit down here 
and talk to me,” pulling the old woman on to a big 
oak settle in the hall. “ I suppose” — audaciously — 
“ you think you are angry with me ?” 

“ Faith, there’d be a dale o’ good in bein’ angry 
wid ye! Wouldn’t there, now?” says Feeney, with 
immense irony. 

“There would. There would, really. I’d like 
you to say right out what you think of me.” 

“ Would ye, now ?” says Feeney. 

“Oh, I know what you mean — that I don’t like 
unkind things to be said to me. Well, nobody does, 
you know, Feeney. But — I can’t bear you to be 
vexed with me.” 

“Arrah, get out wid ye. Miss Chloe, an’ yer 
slutherin’ tongue. ’Tisn’t coaxin’ one o’ the young 
men ye are now. Wisha 1 what d’ye mean at all, by 
talkin’ to an ould woman like this ?” 

“ It is because you are cross with me, Feeney,” 
says the coaxer, rather dismally. “ Everyone is 
199 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


cross with me now, I think. And I hate it. I want 
everyone to love me, Feeney.” 

“Divil a doubt, I doubt ye,” mutters Feeney. 
“ Worse luck for some I could name.” 

I don’t think,” says Chloe, who is in one of her 
miserable moods now, and who feels forsaken and 
forlorn, “ I could live, Feeney, if people weren’t fond 
of me.” 

Couldn’t ye ?” says Feeney with a sniff. Mas- 
ther Laurence thrown in as wan o’ thim, perhaps ?” 

** Oh, Master Laurence,” says Chloe indifferently. 
** As for him — ^you saw yourself, Feeney (you were 
watching him out of the window, were you not?), 
how he went away without even responding to my — 
my good-bye. So rude ! Wasn’t it, now ?” 

** Rude, me dear, perhaps. But faix, ’twas cute !” 
says Feeney, rubbing her mouth. “ I niver thought 
*twas in him.” 

“ What do you mean, Feeney ? How unkind you 
are to me! You have sympathy for everyone but 
me. Why shouldn’t he have said — ^well — said that 
good-bye to me ? Do you think I could harm him, 
that you speak like that ?” 

“ I’ll tell ye one thing I think,” says Feeney sol- 
emnly, that there’ll be war shortly.” 

‘‘War!” 

“ Aye, fegs ! Bloody war, an’ battle, an’ murther ! 
— unless ye pull yerself in a bit.” 

“ Feeney !” 

“ ’Tisn’t Feeney at all, ’tis yerself ye ought to be 
addressin’. ’Tis right well ye know what I mane. 
I’m not so far gone on the road to glory as not to 
200 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


see how ye’re carryin’ on. Not alone wid Masther 
Laurence, but wid Misther Carlton as well.” 

Chloe stares at her for a moment, then bursts out 
laughing. 

“ The same old story !” cries she. 

“ Aye, laugh,” says the old woman. “ ’Tis good 
ye’re at it. An’ I’m not sayin’, too, but it becomes 
ye,” with the irrepressible admiration for beauty that 
lies deep in the Irish breast. ‘‘But why spoil the 
laugh in another ? Can’t ye lave Masther Laurence 
alone, miss? Do, do now, miss dear. Sure ye 
know very well that he’s not for the likes o’ you.” 

Chloe looks at her with a little sudden start. This 
wonderful old woman — what does she know ? What 
does she not know ? 

“ No ? Then who is for ‘ the likes o’ me ?’ ” asks 
she lightly. 

“ If ye don’t know it,” says the old woman cau- 
tiously, reading the girl’s features as she speaks, “ ye 
ought.” 

“ Feeney” — gaily — “ out of your own mouth I 
condemn you ! The fact that I ought to do any- 
thing is surely sufficient reason for you to know that 
I am not likely to do it. Tell me the lucky one who 
is for ‘ the likes o’ me.’ Sir Hardress, perhaps ?” 

“ God forbid, me dear, that ye’d marry that ould 
skinflint !” 

“The gallant Major, then?” 

“Ah, no, miss. I wish” — sighing — ^“it was so. 
Twould save Miss Olivia a power o’ throuble.” 

“ Selfish creature ! Well, who then ?” 

“ Sure ’tis you that know it yourself, miss. But 
201 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


since ye want it said, why, ’tis Misther Carlton — 
an’ a nice gintleman too. Miss Chloe, if a thrifle 
starchy here an’ there. Faith an’ all, miss dear, 
ye might do worse !” 


CHAPTER XXII. 

“ My lyre I tune, my voice I raise, 

But with my numbers mix my sighs.’* 

Chloe, in her soft primrose-coloured frock and big 
flower hat, makes a charming picture, standing over 
there with her putter in her hand, in the midst of the 
warm and joyous sunshine. So young a thing she 
looks, such a mere girl — a child almost, one would 
say, hearing her clear and ringing laughter rush 
through the ambient air ! 

“ Nothing is more pleasant to the eye,” says Lord 
Bacon, “than green grass nicely shorn,” and here 
to-day, in Mrs. Longton’s grounds, the grasses are 
very “ nicely shorn.” She has asked as many of her 
friends as are near neighbours to come and take tea 
with her and talk over the probabilities of Lady 
Matilda’s dance to-morrow night. 

The afternoon is exquisite ; warm, languorous, rich 
in beauty. Soft clouds rest upon the tops of the hills ; 
and on the lower heights delicate diaphanous glories, 
born of mist, deepen into a glowing pink as the day 
dies down. A little bird has now uplifted its song, 
singing as it soars towards the keen heavens. Its 
202 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

farewell note seems to strike to the hearts of those 
below. 

It strikes to the heart of Olivia, who is looking a 
little pensive — a little sad, indeed. O bird, to soar 
like you — out of the earth’s troubles, out of earth’s 
complications, to glorious heights beyond ! 

But the bird, deaf to such foolish longings, flies 
until its tiny form is lost in the blue distance. It is 
gone, still singing ; and far in the west the 

“ plaintive anthem fades 
Past the near meadows, over the still stream, 

Up the hillside ; and now ’tis buried deep 
In the next valley glades.” 

Olivia sighs. 

“ Anything wrong ?” asks Tom, dropping into the 
seat beside her. 

Wrong?” 

** Worse than usual, I mean.” 

** You may know what you mean,” says Olivia, 
** but” — impatiently — “ really I don’t.” 

No ?” 

No.” 

I suppose” — tentatively — it would be an act of 
impertinence on my part to ask you for the first waltz 
to-morrow evening ?” 

It would be more — an act of stupidity !” 

“ Good heavens ! is he so monstrous jealous as 
all that? He says ‘monstrous,’ and ‘vastly,’ and 
‘obleeged,’ doesn’t he? Gentlemen of the Early 
Victorian period used to, I think.” 

“ Used they ? I have never met any of them.” 

203 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


Tom looks at her, and then laughs. The little 
touch of rancorous wit has come home to him. 
Olivia in her moods is charming. Pity she should 
be such a fool in other ways! As if money — the 
mines of Golconda, all the wealth of Rhodesia — 
could make up for — well, for certain other com- 
modities, that are, however, beyond question, of no 
marketable value 1 

“Your ignorance is deplorable,” says he. “But 
what about that waltz ?” 

“ Why should you ask me for a dance when you 
know you don’t want one ?” asks she, turning upon 
him quickly. “ I suppose” — looking at him — “ I can 
say what I like to you, Tom, without being thought 

— without” — slowly — “ being considered ” She 

pauses again. 

“ I always consider you,” says Tom, filling up the 
blank. 

“That’s kind,” with a sort of cold acknowledg- 
ment of his words. “You will, then, not think of 
me as— as ” 

“I shall think of you always,” says Tom with 
decision. 

“That” — stiffly — “is the last thing I should de- 
sire.” 

“Still, I shall. As the greatest ” He leans 

towards her in a confidential sort of way. 

“ Tom.r^ 

“The greatest amongst the very few mercenary 
women I have ever met in my life.” The conversa- 
tion comes to an abrupt end. 

Miss Fitzgerald is now crossing the bank on the 

204 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


side of one of the tennis-courts, on her way to the 
house. Half way there she meets Bethune, who 
stops her. 

“ Going on to the garden ?” asks he. 

“No; I am going to the library to look for a 
book.” 

“ Literary tastes,” says Mr. Bethune, regarding her 
with extreme admiration. “My tastes are floral. 
Can’t I convert you? I’m going to the garden; 
won’t you come ?” 

She laughs, a little forlornly it occurs to him after- 
wards, and continues her way to the house. 

Mr. Bethune continues his way to the garden, with 
a view to revelling in its delights, as he has told every- 
body, with a charming smile ; with a view to rifling 
the strawberries in the orchard beyond, in reality. 

However, in the garden proper — that is, the flower- 
garden near the house — he sees something that bids 
him beat a hasty retreat. 

“ Oh, hang it all !” says he to himself as he retires. 
“They might ring a bell or something, to give a 
fellow a chance.” 

But Chloe (it was Chloe he had seen) has no desire 
to ring a bell, as, stealing on tiptoe across the bal- 
cony, she leans over it to look down on Laurence, 
sitting on the bench below, lost in a melancholy 
reverie. Chloe’s most mischievous smile is warming 
her parted lips ; she seems to find a fund of intense 
amusement in the dejection of the figure beneath 
her. 

“ Fancy anyone caring so much about anything !” 

She leans still farther over the railing, and lifting 
205 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


both her hands, filled with crushed rose-leaves, lets 
the scented shower drop softly on the bent and joy- 
less head. 

Laurence, starting to his feet, looks upwards, then 
pales perceptibly. The girl is gazing down at him, 
her brilliant dark-blue eyes gleaming with a touch 
of amused triumph — a suspicion of power; of 
audacity. There is a sweetness indescribable in her 
pose ; and the soft chestnut locks lying on her deli- 
cate low brow, being slightly ruffled by the pass- 
ing breeze, give her an air of freshness, of youth in- 
carnate. And yet, with all its gay abandon^ it is a 
strong young face — the face of one wild, undisci- 
plined, but full of courage and generosity. 

Opening her little palms to their widest, she lets 
the last of the rose petals drift down upon his face, 
and, always smiling, whispers to him cajolingly : 

“ Still angry with me, dear Romeo ?” 

So sweet, so near, so dear! Laurence’s pulses 
begin to beat tumultuously. He makes a movement 
as if to go to her, but she checks it. 

'' No 1” with quite a repentant air ; “ I am coming 
down to you. I — I want you to forgive me.” 

Oh, Chloe I” in a heartbroken way. 

Yes,” with a sigh that puts his to shame. “ It’s 
dreadful to be fighting with the people whom one 
— well” — with a little glance from under her long 
lashes — likes. You haven’t been happy, have you, 
since that awful — it was an awful evening, wasn’t 
it ?” 

I have felt half mad.” 

“ Yes,” nodding dolefully ; I know it.” 

206 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ It has seemed a month since then.” 

Oh !” — reproachfully — “ / thought it was a 
year!'' 

“No, you didn’t,” says Laurence with sorrowful 
conviction. “ I don’t suppose you thought of it at 
all — or even if you did, with very different feelings 
from mine. How strangely you spoke, you looked ! 
I scarcely knew you. To-day you are the same 
Chloe I have always known ; but then — what made 
that change in you ?” 

“ I don’t know.” Then, thoughtfully : “ What 
sort of dress was I wearing ? My moods change so 
with my frocks. Now, a dark frock makes me — 
oh, well, murderous ! Do you remember the colour ?” 

“ No.” 

“ Not remember the gown I was wearing?” 

“ I can’t, indeed.” 

“After that! — I don’t think really, Laurence 

A friend who can’t even remember the colour of 
one’s gown ” 

“ I could see only the colour of your eyes — they 
were dark and angry.” 

“ And it was you who made them so ! How” — 
thoughtfully — “do they look when they are dark 
and angry?” 

“Chloe,” demands he suddenly, “why did you 
call him Gigi ?” 

She breaks into a gay little laugh. 

“Now, I knew that was the whole heart of the 
matter. Well, have I not told you ? It is a pet name 
for Granby.” Here, as if something wonderfully 
comic strikes her, her laugh widens into one of uncon- 
207 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


trollable heartiness. “ Fancy a pet name for Granby ! 
He doesn’t lend himself to the idea, does he ? No ; 
Gigi is his right title — his real name after all. He was 
christened ‘ Granby Gigi (and the rest) Carlton.' It 
seems he had some foreign ancestor, somewhere in 
the days of the Ark — some Italian, I should imagine. 
Were there any Italians then? And his mother, 
who I think must have been a little off her — eh ? — 
well, gave him that idiotic name amongst the others. 
He has half a dozen others. I found it out one day, 
and was so tickled by it — I thought it so funny, you 
see, as applied to Granby — so altogether unsuited to 
him — that I instantly decided on making him Gigi 
to the end of the chapter. He didn’t like it at first, 
I think ; but now ” 

“ Now ?” Laurence’s tone is mechanical. He 
hardly knows he is replying. His apathy is seen by 
her. 

— with a little amused shrug — “ he endures 
it.” 

*‘Ah!” 

‘‘How stupid you are! You” — angrily — “must 
see for yourself how unsuited it is to him.” 

“ I have not thought of it.” 

“ No ? But you must have noticed his grandiose: 
air; his manner of swooping down upon the unwary 
and convicting them of their misdemeanours on the 
spot; his amiable, if mistaken, desire to set th^ 
whole world straight.” 

“ Are you his whole world ?” 

She stares. 

“You mean that he lectures only me. Ah!” — 
208 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


flushing — “there you are mistaken; although” — 
flushing even deeper — “I confess I come in for a 
good share of his attention in that way. But” — im- 
patiently — “you haven’t answered me. Have you 
noticed the extrem.e gravity of his manner — his 
magisterial air?” She pauses again, as if again 
wondering at the inattention of her audience, and 
then says sharply, suddenly : “ Have you ?” 

“ No.” 

“No? You” — politely — must be a fool! That 
is why I call him Gigi. This frivolous name, as 
attached to him, seems to me delicious. So you 
have not noticed how he can march down upon the 
sinner with bayonet fixed? /have. I’ve had op- 
portunities.” 

“ You” — he looks at her — “ you mean ?” 

“ I do indeed,” solemnly shaking her head. “ Why 
— how could you care about my calling him any- 
thing? Don’t you know that he disapproves of me 
— is very often rude to me ? Sometimes” — she turns 
her brilliant eyes on Laurence — “ sometimes it has 
occurred to me that he — hates me. Have you” — 
she leans eagerly towards him— «“ noticed that?^^ 

“Hate you? No. But” — as if searching his 
memory honestly for some evidence he would like 
to produce — “ I have often thought that he ” 

“ Yes, yes ; go on. How slow you are !” 

“ That he didn’t quite appreciate you.” 

A pause. 

“You mean — that he doesn’t like me?” 

“ Oh, no ! Far from that. Not to like a person 
gets perilously close to &like. And to dislike 
209 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


you What I think is” — he pauses, stammers — 

“ I think he is unworthy of you,” says he at last. 

It is not what he was going to say, however. 

She makes an impatient gesture. 

“That is an absurd idea. Unworthy of me! I 
have as little to do with him as he with me,” slowly. 
“ Why should I care whether he was worthy or not ? 
Come, I will tell you something. He despises me. 
He thinks me very wrong in coming here at all. 
Of course, you can see — ^you know through Mrs. 
Gilbert — that I am here in rather a false position. 
But to be here, safe, away from all the winds of 

evil Ah, I am glad to be here I But Granby 

says I am doing wrong — that I am acting deceit- 
fully; that I should go back to misery, just because 
it is my duty. Well, I shan’t go back. And he 
may despise me as much as ever he likes. I don’t 
care.” 

“ Yes; I understood you had run away from your 
guardian. I don’t see how anyone could blame you 
there — if he was unkind.” 

She nods her charming head. 

“ He was^ and so I left him. I confess it was not 
the orthodox thing to do. There were other ways — 
very unpleasant ways — of freeing oneself for ever; 
but strong as I am (and I have courage), I draw the 
line at publicity — the prying eyes, the cruel tongues. 
Well” — airily — “never mind all that. Anyway, I 
decided to come here, and ” 

“ There is this,” says Laurence. “ What have you 
let your guardian think ?” 

“ My guardian ?” She stares for a moment, 
210 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

then goes on hurriedly: ''Oh, yes, I see. Well, 
I have let him think anything he likes — except” — 
with a quite malicious but delightful smile— 
truthr 

A silence falls between them. Then he turns to her. 

“Has.it ever occurred to you” — quietly — “that 
if you could deceive one man, you could deceive 
another ?” 

She frowns, giving her shoulders a pretty little 
hitch. Granby had said that too — once; but then 
Granby is always so detestable. 

“ I know quite well I could,” she tells him with 
charming candour, her clear eyes, no whit ashamed, 
well fixed on his, “ if” — a saving clause — “ I hated 
him.” 

“Ah! You might not confine yourself to those 
you hater 

His tone has infinite sadness in it. It reaches and 
touches her. 

“ Why, of course I should, you little stupid Lau- 
rence !” cries she with a mimic frown, regardless of 
the fact that her graceful head barely reaches his 
shoulder. “ Why should I tell a tarradiddle to one 
who — liked me — and whom /,” with emphasis on the 
milder term, “ liked ?” 

“ Will you swear,” demands he suddenly, apropos 
of nothing going before as it seems, “ that you have 
had no love passages with Carlton ?” 

“A thousand swears!” She lays her hands on 
his shoulders and gives him a good shake. “ What ! 
don’t you understand yet? Why, he thinks me 
quite shocking. He would as soon have love pas- 
14 211 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

sages with a Fiji miss, or ma’am (oh, not with a 
ma'am ! — he is immensely proper), as with me. I 
am a cousin of his — nothing more, I assure you ; 
and” — slowly — “ never shall be ! Why do you look 
at me like that ? Don’t you believe ?” 

Yes, of course” — anxiously — “ only ” 

‘‘ Only — you don’t ?” 

No. But ” 

‘‘ Laurence,” making a little pass with her white 
fingers before the eyes that are so intently gazing 
into hers, if you are trying to plumb the depths of 
my soul, you are wasting your time. I have no soul, 
so there are no depths. Take me as I am, and ” 

‘^Ah! If I could!” 

“ Well, so you can,” promptly evading by a dex- 
terous move the more dangerous train of thought. 

I’m dying for some tea. You can take me ... to 
the tea-room. But before we go” — making quite a 
determined start herself, as if to put an end to argu- 
ment — “ let us be friends. I can’t bear feeling ‘ wroth 
with those I’ — care for,” hurriedly. The little quota- 
tion had been a mistake. 

“ Chloe, let me say a word.” 

‘‘ Let me '' — with an imperative gesture — “ say it for 
you. You want to say that all our desperate quarrel’* 
— with a beaming smile — “ is at an end. Isn’t that 
it? You see, I know exactly how it is with you, 
how really unbearable it is to feel, well — you know 
— horrid towards one’s friends. And we have 
been good friends, Laurence, haven’t we? Such 
good friends ! There is nothing like friendship, is 
there ?” 


212 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

“ I have not loved the world, nor the world me.” 

Chloe’s game — parlour golf, putting, or whatever 
you like to call that play upon the real good and 
splendid game — had ended most victoriously for her. 
Her eye and aim are sharp as needles, and she had 
only once miscalculated her distance. After that she 
had been lost to Mrs. Longton’s party for a consider- 
able time. Where had she been ? It occurs now to 
somebody to make an inquiry, and Olivia very lightly 
follows it up. *‘Yes; where is Chloe?” asks she; 
indifferently, however ; she is not one of the “ high 
morality” order, rather of those who would give a 
chance to a poor criminal. She looks at Carlton 
involuntarily. There is no purpose in her look. 

don’t know,” returns he calmly. Coldly ^ she 
tells herself. Is Cissy’s theory wrong, after all ? Is 
he not the lover denied her ? 

Are you wondering where Miss Jones is ?” asks 
Bethune, looking up from where he had been telling 
dreadful lies to Cissy for the past ten minutes, with 
the air of a child of three. “Have you lost her? 
Don’t drag the river just yet, Carlton. I think I can 
give you a clue that may restore her to you in the 
near future. I may say at once (are you sure no 
representative of the Press is about ?) that I saw her 
just now in the garden over there, showering ca- 
resses (oh, I beg pardon — what a shocking mistake !) 
213 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


— rose-leaves on the happy head of Laurence Lloyd. 
My goodness !” turning to Olivia and trying to look 
ashamed, without the smallest chance of success, 
“ what a dreadful slip 

‘‘ In the garden ?” says Olivia, glancing at Carl- 
ton, who is entirely unmoved. “ After all, no one 
need have been so anxious about her, as here 
she is.” 

Chloe, indeed, can now be seen coming across the 
grass to them, with no suspicion of a single arriere 
pensee upon her charming face. She looks only 
singularly young and happy, like one wrapped in the 
insouciance of youth. 

She goes straight to Carlton, and seats herself 
comfortably on the bench beside him. 

“ Here I am,” says she. 

‘‘ So I see.” Carlton’s voice is not pleasant. 

The others have all drifted away, some to the 
putting game again, some to tennis or the croquet 
ground. 

Carlton, making way for her on the garden seat 
beside him, says slowly, perhaps a little unpleas- 
antly : 

“ Where have you left Laurence Lloyd ?” 

‘‘ Oh, how persistent you are !” returns she, arrang- 
ing her skirts to an artistic fold. I thought we had 
threshed all that out long ago !” 

“ So we have. And we have threshed out, too, 
that if you transgress a certain rule, you are liable 
for the penalty.” 

‘‘ Can’t I even speak to people, then ?” 

To as many people as you like within the bounds. 

214 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


Lloyd seems to me to have got outside them. I 
warned you, you know, that I should not allow any- 
thing of this sort — that I should make a move if yoit 
forgot — how you are situated. I tell you again, I 
will not have Lloyd made miserable to give you a 
Roman holiday.” 

‘‘You are tremendously classic,” says she, “but 
scarcely coherent. And besides, you are altogether 
in the wrong. You think” — defiantly — “ that he 
has been making love to me.” 

“ It is as probable a thing as I know.” 

“You” — triumphantly — “are wrong, then. He 
has been trying to convince me for the last half-hour 
that you are in love with me. Come, now, where 
are all your theories ? Vanished ! Exploded ! Oh, 
Gigi, I often told you you were a fool ; now you 
must know it.” 

“He has been ” 

“Yes; it is the funniest story. The day before 
yesterday — or was it yesterday ? — he came to see me, 
and treated me to a perfect tirade about the impro- 
priety of my being found in the Major’s garden with 
you at eleven o’clock at night. Do you know, w'hen 
he took that tone he reminded me of you? Yes, 
really ! Of course, he was very stupid over the 
morality point, and lost his thread here and there. 
That also reminded me of you. Anyway, he gave 
me a fearful scolding.” 

“ If you had any sense of dignity you would not 
have allowed him to ” 

“ Don’t interrupt me. I want to tell you things. 
In the midst of his tirade I sat down to write an 
215 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


imaginary letter, with a view to getting rid of him. 
You see ” 

She pauses. 

“ Oh, I see,” drily. 

** And he was very confusing ; and very near; and — 
he was looking over my shoulder, I suppose to see 
what I was scribbling ; and what doyoM think it was ?” 

“ ‘ Chloe’ !” cynically. 

What a beast you are, Granby ! Fm not always 
thinking of myself! Well, you are right. It was 
Chloe — but ‘ Chloe Carlton ’ ! There 1 what do you 
think of that?” 

** I never think — where you are concerned. It 
would be a mere waste of time. What did he think ?” 

Oh, that ! He was wild I He was, indeed, ex- 
tremely rude. But can’t you see the joke ? He had 
been bothering me about you, and then I wrote 
Chloe Carlton just as if it were my usual signature!” 

** Well” — indifferently — so it ought to be.” 

“ So it isn'tf however. Society has its own laws. 
* C. B.’ I always sign myself. I can’t see how I put 
in that Carlton. You know it is your name too, and 

he How shall I explain it to you, Gigi ? Well” 

— with a little mischievous laugh — he thought we 
were not only engaged but — married! It is quite 
too funny, isn’t it ?” 

** As you know, I am too dull to see jokes,” says 
Carlton coldly; “and for the rest — I shouldn’t be 
surprised at anything he might think.” 

“ What an aspersion on his powers of observation !” 

“ All this is as nothing.” Carlton is now frowning. 
“ You may deceive him^ Chloe ; you can never deceive 
216 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


me, I have watched you with young Lloyd, and I 
know that you are grossly misleading him.” 

“ I am not, indeed. I assure you I am not. Why 
on earth should you get that into your head ? Only 
this moment I told him I was his friend — his friend 
only. I impressed that on him ” 

“ With a shower of rose-leaves !” 

“ Who told you that ?” 

** Never mind; somebody who called them ca- 
resses.” 

Oh I what a pretty simile !” She looks quite de- 
lighted at this flight on the part of the unknown 
somebody. Tell me his name !” 

Why should it not be her name ?” 

“ Granby ! As if I were not equal to the unravel- 
ling of my own sex ! Is there a woman born who 
would have said anything so sweet about another 
woman ? Oh, I know my own sex.” 

‘‘And mine?” 

“Ah ! Yours is so difficult!” She tries to look 
regretful, but there is a touch of mirth in her half- 
lowered eyes that gives him to know she thinks the 
knowledge of his sex a far easier matter to overcome 
than that of hers. “ But” — echoing him audaciously 
— “ all this is as nothing. I wanted to tell you, when 
you so rudely interrupted me, that I had told Lau- 
rence I was his friend, and that only. Now it stands 
to reason that the very fact of being a friend puts 
one outside the pale of love. Indeed, as far as I 
have been able to judge, a friend means an object of 
downright dislike — concealed, of course, but ” 

“ Nonsense !” He makes a gesture as if to sweep 
217 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


away her nonsense. “Do you think I can’t see 
through you? And what on earth do you want 
with that too affectionate boy? You stand on the 
edge of a volcano ; and when it bursts ” 

“Oh, that’s all in the vague! I am calm here, 
and happy, Gigi. Don’t spoil my one perfect hour 
out of my twenty years oi— first neglect, and then 
misery.” 

“ It has been hard for you.” He admits it slowly 
— with the slowness of one keeping himself well in 
check. “ But it is not all so in the vague as you 
imagine. I have had a letter from Blakeney to-day.” 

“ Good news” — flippantly — “ I trust ?” but she 
pales as she speaks. 

“ Yes,” gravely ; “ he is better. And — ^asking for 

you. He has taken it into his head that you ” 

He hesitates. 

“ Let me fill up the blank. That I — ran away 
with one of the many idiots that hovered around 
me last season. (Idiots thrown in my path by him 
— I never forget that.) Such a thought has arisen 
from his own diseased nature; from nothing else. 
Even you” — flashing her great violet eyes on him 
with the air of an offended queen — you who hold 
me in such low esteem — dare not think otherwise. 
Well” — with a little movement of her hand that 
seems to brush away all nauseous thoughts — “ it is 
nothing to me. Nothing, really. Why should I be 
vexed ? A mind as vile as his ” 

“ It is something to you, however. Blakeney says 
that if he is not — well — reassured about you, he will 
alter his will, and leave you nothing.’’ 

218 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ So much the better for / ’* 

Good heavens, Chloe ! Can’t you be serious for 
once ? Do you understand that you are by this 
insane hiding away doing yourself out of about a 
hundred and sixty thousand pounds ? That is what 
the loose personalties come to.” 

** I shall be quite well off enough in October. I 
shall have my own money then, and — the settlements. 
He can’t take tke^n away.” 

“ Still, to deliberately fling away a hundred and 
sixty thousand pounds !” 

“Well lost — with the loss of him! Besides — I 
don’t believe in his loss yet. Bad halfpennies always 
return, as curses do to roost. He is my curse, and 
will be, I am convinced, for many a year. But he 
shall never return to me or I to him. Put that 
out of your head, Granby. I would sacrifice not 
only the sum you speak of, but every penny I have 
in the world, rather than see him again.” 

There is such vehemence in her tone as renders 
him silent for a moment. She must have suffered at 
his hands I Suffered I — great heavens, what had she 
suffered to bring her to this state of mind ? 

“Still,” begins he, struggling in battle with his 
grief for her and his desire to do the best he can for 
her future, “ however much you may dislike him — 
whatever grudge you may bear him — there is de- 
cency to be considered. If you go to this dance 
to-morrow night, for instance, and he hears of 
it ” 

“ Do you know” — calmly — “ I do so hope he will I 
It would be a little balm to my wounds.” Her lips, 
219 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


so usually given to smiles, are now pale, defiant. 
Her eyes are blazing. 

** You will go to the dance, then ?” 

‘‘ Certainly !” 

“ Chloe ! Have you thought ? His life hangs on 
a thread. He might even be lying dead whilst 'you 
were dancing !” 

And if so, why should I stop my dancing ? Do 
you think he would refrain from dancing if I were 
dead? — from one single pleasure? Yet / have done 

him no injury. And as for his being dead Don’t 

be melodramatic, Gigi ; the role doesn’t suit you. 
Scold me if you will. And you will, eh? That 
rUe suits you down to the ground, practice having 
made you perfect; but don’t go in for the heavier 
business. He won’t be dead for quite a long time 
yet. / know him. You dwell on his heart, /am 
quite positive he hasn’t got one ; therefore, like the 
eternal ‘Jew’ of the Frenchman and ‘the brook’ of 
the Englishman, he will ‘ go on for ever’ — to my 
grief and dismay.” 

“ Don’t talk like that ! It is abominable ! — and at 
such a moment !” 

“ What moment? He is not dead. He is even 
better, you say. He is, in my opinion, never likely 
to die — if his heart has anything to do with it. He 
may be ill, off and on, for years, and I — am I to stay 
lamenting all my life just because ” 

“ It can’t be for long.” 

“ The lamenting ? No indeed !” cheerfully. 

“ Chloe ! You can’t wish him dead !” 

“My dear Granby, of course not! When one 
220 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


thinks of the wretched consequences I am still 

a Christian woman, I hope, though you may not be 
disposed to believe it. The poor man has had such 
good times on earth that he is bound to pay for it — 
later on.” 

** He has had no good times. A bad soul has no 
good times anywhere.” 

‘‘Ah!” lightly. “You admit, then, that he is — 
was (no more scope now, you know) — not the alto- 
gether desirable person he should have been ?” 

“ That does not in the least exonerate you from 
your duties.” 

“I have none. She — Mademoiselle Contralto — 
took them up, you know.” 

“ You will be sorry afterwards — when it is too late, 
Chloe.” 

“When it is ‘too late,* as you call it, I shall be 
glad. And look now, Granby, how you contradict 
yourself! That little speech quite upsets your whole 
theory of me — goes altogether against your foregone 
beliefs. Do you dream me capable of remorse — an 
ephemeral thing like me — a soulless fool? You 
^now your opinion of me.” 

“ I don’t indeed,” gravely, “ if that is it” 

“ Oh, well, never mind. You have a soul. Don’t 
perjure it for me. And besides, providentially, there 
is no necessity for remorse in this case. I have been 
most villainously used, as you know^ Granby” — turn- 
ing upon him with a little touch of fire — “ though all 
your sympathy is for this sick wretch, and not an 
atom for his victim.” 

“ ‘ Victim’ is an absurd word. And it is impos- 
221 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


sible not to see that my sympathy is entirely on your 
side. If he dies without hearing from you or seeing 
you ” 

“ I’m afraid he will have to die without the latter.” 
It is the calmest, the most charming of faces that 
looks at him as this distinctly cruel fiat leaves her 
lips. “ Whenever that hideous fact comes off, / shall 
not be there to see.” 

You will not go to him, then ?” 

She turns upon him a face flushed with indignant 
astonishment. 

** How stupid of you !” 

** He is alone. He wants someone.” 

No doubt he will find someone.” 

** It is your place.” 

** Is it ? I shan’t fill it.” 

** Chloe, look at the purely human side of it !” 

“ It is at that I am looking ; though ‘ pure’ is an 
ill-advised word when kts name comes in. The purely 
human side means my positive refusal to again asso- 
ciate myself with your cousin. Oh, there ! You can 
shrug your shoulders and look unfathomable disgust 
at me if you like, but — I am purely human all the 
same ! The thing hurt is the thing enraged. And I 
assure you his death would not move me to a single 
tear. Why should it ? I detested him living — I shall 
detest him dead.” She pauses. ** That shocks you, 
of course. But you must remember that I don’t be- 
lieve in the nearness of that very-much-to-be-desired 
affair so deeply as you do, though it means to me 
quite as much, if not more.” 

More ?” 


222 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“Dear me, yes, Granby! Can’t you see? His 
death to you will mean a great deal, perhaps ; to me 
^everything / “ 

He looks at her silently. 

“ How you hate him !’’ 

She looks back at him, silently too. 

“Yes, that is how I hate him,” says she at last. 
Her face has grown strangely white; her lips are 
firmly pressed together. What is she thinking of? 

“ But why ? Chloe, he surely ” He stops as 

if choked by some hideous thought. 

“ I talk a great deal sometimes, don’t I ?” says she, 
with a little sudden return to her every-day air. ” But 
then sometimes” — with a little curious gesture — “ I 
don’t talk at all ! See ?” 


CHAPTER XXIV. . 

Let us go hence and rest ; she will not love. 

She shall not hear us if we sing hereof.” 

Lady Matilda’s dance, even at quite an early hour, 
shews signs of being an immense success. Every- 
one has come ! That means victory assured ! As a 
rule, in small country places, where distances mean 
many miles, disappointments from the best people 
often arise; whereas, no matter what the distance, 
the people one doesn’t care twopence about always 
arrive. But to-night all that is changed. 

The county, to a man — and woman (which is 
223 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

more important)— is present, and gaiety is the order 
of the hour. 

Chloe, always so exquisitely coiffee, has sur- 
passed herself now. Her frock is a very marvel of 
beauty — white, glittering. There is a little row of 
diamonds round her neck that gives pause to Lady 
Matilda. “ Bless my soul ! Who is this girl? Where 
did Dora Fitzgerald find her?’* 

Chloe — regardless of comment, radiant, gracious, 
reckless — has given herself up to the moment as one 
might, perhaps, who has dreams of hope near at hand, 
when a weight, hitherto intolerable, may soon be 
lifted. 

“Good heavens!” thinks Carlton watching her 
with a frowning brow as she glides past him in the 
arms of Laurence. “ Does she ever remember ? 
Does she ever think? He may be dying at this 
moment, and yet” — following her open and, as he 
calls it, disgraceful encouragement of young Lloyd 
— “ she is enticing that silly boy into a sillier entan- 
glement.” 

Indeed, Chloe lends herself to this idea. Dance 
after dance she has given to Laurence. And even 
when dancing with some other man (and there are 
very many other men who would have danced all 
night with her, if such was her royal will), still, the 
dance with him coming to an end, she has smiled 
joyous pleasure to Laurence as he approached, his 
face illuminated, to claim her for the next. 

“A d d coquette!’* says Carlton. It seems 

a final decision. He feels for a telegram in his 
pocket, a telegram he had received just five minutes 
224 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


before his coming here. It must have been delayed 
in some way. But to speak of it now — here — with 
her whole soul — no (contemptuously), not soul! 
— her whole nature so saturated with the absurd 
pleasure of this idiotic dance! No! Impossible! 
He turns upon his heel. Dancing has no charms for 
him to-night, with this sad message in his pocket 
He had come here simply to see her — to tell her. 

And so the night grows and dies ; and Fate plays 
its impish tricks with many. 

The Major, looking a very handsome man, and trim 
and smart in his evening clothes, has come up to 
Olivia, who seems to him rather neglected, as no 
man is beside her. The man who should be beside 
her has just gone to get her an ice, but the Major 
could not know that 

I suppose,” says he, smiling, ** an old fellow like 
me would hardly have the chance of a waltz with 
you ?” 

“ I won’t let you call yourself such bad names as 
that,” says Olivia very prettily. She looks charming, 
but singularly pale, and with quite a new line around 
her lips. It speaks of determination. 

A little cloud, indeed, had arisen before dressing 
for this dance. It had come by the evening post to 
Mrs. Fitzgerald — an extra bill, forgotten for six 
months, but now brought home to her — in a blue 
envelope. It was impossible to conceal it, as the 
girls read all her letters, and she reads all theirs ; but 
it occurred to her, seeing their saddened faces, that 
it would be a dreadful thing if they did not enjoy 
themselves at this dance. She had tried to make 
225 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


the best of it, therefore ; had made splendid efforts at 
laughing it off. It would be all right,” she said ; 

something was sure to turn up, and new times were 
coming,” and so on ; but she failed to blind Olivia to 
the fact that she was wretched, very sore at heart, 
and embarrassed in many ways. And for whom ? — 
not for herself, Olivia knew. Poor mama, who 
grudged herself a single gown, yet who could grudge 
them nothing! And “new times coming.” What 
had she meant by that ? 

Olivia’s heart sank. But she knew or thought she 
knew. And — well — when nobody loved her (this 
was unkind to the Major, but she was not thinking 
of him), she might as well marry for money and 
help poor darling mother, as stay an old maid for 
ever. Thus prepared she came to the dance, fully 
determined to say “yes” to Major O’Hara if he 
should ask her to marry him. 

“ Old ?” She smiles at him again. “ No I that is 
not the word for you. And besides, you know, you 
have a reputation as a waltzer.” 

“ Oh ! come now!” says the Major, his kindly face 
aglow. “ Who told you that, eh ?” 

“ Why, mama, of course !” with a most deadly 
attempt at liveliness. 

“ Ah !” says the Major. He pulls himself up, 
draws a quick breath, and altogether seems to have 
gained in a moment even a great accession of 
courage. 

This courage frightens Olivia. 

“ She thinks you” — stammering — “ good at every- 
thing !” She has determined to put it on mama. 

226 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


*‘Does she?” The Major grows even more ani- 
mated, more courageous. 

“ Yes, indeed !” Olivia is losing her head. “ She 
thinks you are invincible !” 

She is now quite piling it up on mama. 

Invincible ! Good heavens, Olivia! Do you 
know what you are saying ? Invincible with — with 
whom ?” 

** Oh” — hurriedly — ** anybody !” 

«If” — excitedly — “your mother really thinks 
that ” 

Olivia tells herself she is going to faint. Oh, 
what has she said? What awful encouragement 
has she given him ? The fact that she has given 
him encouragement should not have alarmed her, 
as she certainly meant to give it to him when she 
started for this dance; but to mean to do a thing 
and to do it are such very different things. 

“What I mean is that mother thinks you are a 

good man ” She breaks off. Oh, this is worse 

than useless ; it is only aggravating the first offence. 
And to call anyone a “ good” man 1 How dread- 
fully offensive! He will be annoyed — and no 
wonder. “ Oh, not a good man !” says she. “ Any- 
thing but that. Not a bad one, you know ; only ” 

She stops dead short. He has caught her hand. 

“ Not a bad one, I hope,” says he very kindly. “ I 
know what you mean, howeyer. And I will be 
good to your mother, and to you too, Olivia, 
if ” 

“ Oh, I know !” She interrupts him with a little 
frantic gesture. What is she looking at, down there 
15 227 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


on the terrace ? can’t dance this — I can’t indeed. 
I — don’t feel very well.” There is a touch of 
anguish in her voice. ** Oh, Major O’Hara, you can 
see ” 

I can — I can ! Not another word, my dear girl. 
Of course I can see,” says the gentle Major. What 
he really does see is Tom Lloyd on the terrace out- 
side. Was that what she saw too ? “A little turn,” 
says he tenderly, ** in the cool night air will set you 
up again.” He has brought her across the room 
whilst saying this, and up to the open window. 
“ Look here,” says he, calling to Tom, who is still 
standing on the stone flags, cold and insolent, ** Olivia 
is not feeling quite up to the mark. The rooms are 
warm, you know. Mrs. Longton unfortunately 
wants me just now — saw her beckoning to me a 
moment ago.” (This is a really tremendous lie for 
the Major.) ” So if you will go with Tom, my dear, 
into the gardens for a bit, you will. I’m sure, be the 
better for it.” 

The Major, with a tender squeeze of Olivia’s hand, 
thus resigns her to Tom, who accepts the gift with 
a cynical air, and prepares to lead her to the grounds 
below, a little uncertain as to the Major’s mood. 
Is this revenge on his part — this giving of his in- 
tended bride into his care, to wander with him, in 
moonlit depths, in dewy pleasaunces, for the hour ? 
He frowns. 

Olivia’s charming brow is conscious of a very dis- 
tinct frown too, as, the Major having left them, she 
turns abruptly to Tom. 

“ This is none of my doing.” 

228 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


** Of course not. I could see you were tremen- 
dously upset by Major O’Hara’s abrupt depart- 
ure.” 

It was not that.” 

** No ? Really ? I quite thought it was. I con- 
fess, I think it was a somewhat unloverlike act of 
his; just as he had brought you to this romantic 
spot, with as sentimental a moon over his head as if 
he had ordered it, he calmly hands you over to an 
uninteresting fellow like me.” 

“The fact” — demurely, deliberately — “that you 
were so uninteresting no doubt enabled him to obey 
Mrs. Longton’s signal with a quiet mind. What an 
exquisite night it is !” 

Tom feels a little stung. To call oneself by con- 
temptuous terms is one thing; to hear the girl you 
are walking with calling you by them is quite 
another. He laughs, however, very successfully. 

“ No fear of jealousy, you mean ?” 

“ Hardly that. I could not imagine Major O’Hara 
guilty of pettiness of any sort.” 

“ Dear old gentleman !” 

“Not so very old!” Her temper is getting a 
little beyond her control now. Her eyes are flash- 
ing, though her voice is still low and apparently 
unconcerned. 

“There are older, certainly. There was once a 
person called Methuselah, I am told. He was quite 
a young thing at three hundred or so. Now, the 
Major must still be something ofl* the hundred, eh ? 
And a nice, fresh, crispy old bachelor he is, too; 

well calculated to make any girl happy.” 

229 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ He has, at all events, very much better manners 
than some of the young men I know.” 

“Meaning me?” says Tom equably. “No need 
to crush me like that. Do you think I don’t know 
it? Haven’t I read all about it? Why, everyone is 
aware that people born in the last century were pos- 
sessed of refinements that we poor nineteenth-century 
folk can but dream of— not dare to emulate. Whose 
miserable youth has not been poisoned by tales of 
the Grandisonian bow, the letters of Lord Chester- 
field ? My one regret is” — here he looks at her very 
hard — “ that I was not born when the Major was.” 

“You might certainly” — with a carefully cutting 
air — “ have gained something.” 

“ True,” says Tom sweetly. “ Age for one thing.” 

“ I’m afraid I meant something else.” 

“ Ah, well” — ^briskly — “ we won’t go into it. And 
you need not be so down upon me, Olivia. I’m 
agreeing with you straight through ; I’m applauding 
your appreciation of our ancient friend. Old gentle- 
men are ever so much more desirable than boys. 
Boys, as a rule, pall. Are not these your own senti- 
ments ? I can hear you say : ‘ Give me a nice, kind, 
lively old person of seventy or thereabouts (one 
should be charitable where age is concerned), and I 
ask nothing more.’ But I forget. No need for you 
to ask ; you’ve got one.” 

“ Do you know,” says Olivia, “ I think the person 
who perpetually sneers at others is the most fatiguing 
of all companions. ‘ Not to admire was all the art 
he knew.’ Did you ever read that line ?” 

“ If it suggests the idea that I don’t admire your 
230 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


fiance I am afraid I must come to the humiliating 
belief that you have not been listening to me for the 
last ten minutes. But of course, with your ears 
strained to hear the first returning footstep of your 
Romeo, you 

Major O’Hara is not affianced to me !” 

No ? Not yet ? Why tarry the wheels of his 
chariot ? However, you have made up your mind, 
eh ?” 

“ I” — firmly — ‘‘ shall marry Major O’Hara if he 
asks me ! Perhaps, however” — with a sudden strange 
gleaming in her eyes that he sees, but fails to read in 
his present passion of disgust — “ he won’t.” 

Ah ! don’t be too modest.” He rises to his feet. 
“ If he asks you, you will marry him, then ?” 

She nods her head. She could not have spoken to 
save her life. 

‘‘ Couldn’t do better I” says he, almost brutally. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

« ’Tis better not to be, than be unhappy.’* 

If Olivia has been going through an experience, 
so has her mother. The Major having triumphantly 
(as he believes — kindly, honest gentleman as he is) 
left Olivia in the hands of a friend, has come back 
— 7iot to Mrs. Longton, who, indeed, never wanted 
him, but to Mrs. Fitzgerald, who, sitting on the 
balcony outside the dancing-room, receives him from 
231 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


the distance with a somewhat forced smile. She had 
seen his “ invitation to the dance,” as addressed to 
Olivia, some time ago, and had wondered how 
things were going with her and him. The Major’s 
look of delight as he sees her now gives her the 
impression that Olivia had at least not been unkind. 
Could she have accepted him ? That child ! If 

she had — well — of course, if she had Mrs. 

Fitzgerald’s veins seem to run icy cold for a moment. 
A child like that to marry a man old enough to be 
her 

Well, I am fortunate in finding you here, out of 
this dreadful turmoil,” says the Major genially, slip- 
ping into the seat beside her. ‘Tve been looking 
for you, but somehow you have eluded me all the 
night up to this.” 

Not on purpose.” Her smile is a little wanting. 

‘‘ No, no. But, Dora, I have been — well, well ” 

The Major grows embarrassed. 

You have been ” 

“Anxious to speak to you on a certain subject; 
you can guess, Dora, eh ?’* 

“ I have guessed it,” says Mrs. Fitzgerald faintly. 
Her charming and very lovable face has grown pale 
to a quite alarming degree. 

“And — and — Dora, do you mean that I may 
speak?” The Major has grown extremely nervous. 

“ I mean it — yes.” Her voice is low, almost in- 
audible. “I know no man I so respect, so look up 
to as — ^you.” 

Now, surely the Major might be supposed to make 
some handsome acknowledgment of these tributes 
232 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


to his charms, but he seems, on the contrary, quite 
put out by them, and draws back. Presently, how- 
ever, he leans towards her. 

“ I don’t so much want to be respected by the 
woman I love,” says he, as to be loved by her.” 

** I think any woman, knowing you, would not 
only respect, but love you,” returns Mrs. Fitzgerald. 

Ah !” The Major looks at her. ** You say that ?” 
He had got up a moment ago, and now takes a step 
nearer to her. ‘‘This is more than I hoped for. 
Let me speak now, Dora — now ! ” 

“ No, no !” She makes a sharp protest with her 
hand. “I am tired — I am overdone. I cannot 
listen. Perhaps to-morrow ” 

“ I see. I beg your pardon. Don’t mind me, 
Dora. Don’t rise ! — sit there and rest yourself.” 
He presses her back into the chair from which she 
has risen in her agitation, with the very gentlest 
hand. “ I have been too precipitate. But — to-morrow 
— you said to-morrow, Dora. May I come then ?” 

“ Yes.” Her voice is hardly audible now. “ To- 
morrow.” 

The Major, taking her hand, lifts it and presses it 
to his lips with a sort of rapture. 

“ God bless you, Dora !” 

Oh ! how fond he is of her ! thinks Mrs. Fitzgerald. 
She sighs softly ; her face has lost all its brightness, 
however. How fond of Olivia! But Olivia — what 
will she say — to-morrow ? 

The Major is still holding her hand. She had 
turned her face slightly aside, and probably he had 
seen symptoms of bad luck in this alien attitude. 

233 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


** Why don’t you look at me ?” he asks her, with 
some reproach, but in his very kindest tone — and, 
indeed, all his tones are kind. “ Would you wish 
me no^ to come to-morrow ? Is it too sudden ? You 
know I have considered your wishes all my life, 
and if you think it would make you happier — my 
staying away — a little longer, I ” 

‘‘No, no.” She rises. “Why should you stay 
away ? James” — ^very earnestly — “ you know what 
I think of you, how I regard you, don’t you ?” 

“ I hope so, Dora.” 

“ Then come to-morrow.” 

She gives him her hand again, with open friend- 
ship and full trust. 

“ You ask me to come ?” His manner is agitated ; 
but the reason for this, she tells herself with a faint 
smile, is easily accounted for. 

“ I do — I do indeed !” There is actual warmth in 
her voice. After all, her girl (whose heart is perfectly 
free), however great the disparity in their ages, can 
find nothing but happiness in a union with this kind 
and handsome gentleman. 

At her request he leaves her; and sinking back 
into her seat, she breaks all at once into a passion of 
tears. What — what has she done ? How strange — 
how terrible a thing is life! And Olivia will not 
understand him. Poor Olivia ! he is too old for her, 
of course; but 

Well, well, well I breaking off her thoughts impa- 
tiently; she is getting the best man on earth for her 
husband. Many a girl has done far worse. She stops 
again, and sighs again. Few girls have done better. 
234 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

“ Mine be the heart that can itself defend.” 

Carlton — gloomy, indignant — has been walking 
for the past hour beneath the Chinese lanterns hung 
so artistically in the gardens, with very poor results 
as to the state of his mind. He is still moody and — 
more than that — uncertain, which is the worst of all 
moods, because of the wear and tear that belongs to 
it. Now he comes suddenly upon a quiet little spot, 
very carefully not moonlit, from which retreat voices 
reach him. 

‘‘ More of those confounded idiots !’* says he, stop- 
ping short. He has no sympathy with lovers to- 
night. To go back is the only thing. But a word 
or two — and one voice especially — brings him to a 
standstill ; it brings his face, too, to an expression as 
hard as stone. 

I would believe your lightest word.’* 

The more fool you.” There is no mistaking that 
laughing tone. He can almost see the pretty face, 
and the little seductive wrinkling up of the soft 
cheeks to the eyes (it is hardly a grimace) that means 
so much to the man she is looking at — and so little 
all the same. 

'*No, Chloe. I must have been mad when I 
doubted you — when I thought you engaged to 
Carlton.” 

She laughs. 


23s 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


** You were at your maddest then, certainly. He 
detests me.” 

‘‘ But now” — eagerly — I believe in you as” — 
vehemently — “ I believe in heaven !” 

She makes a little gesture. Is it one of distress ? 

Oh, no ! I shouldn’t do that if I were you !” 

I shall, however !” 

“ A rash promise,” says a voice coming from the 
depths of the shrubberies. The owner of it steps 
into their vision. 

‘‘ I’m afraid,” says Carlton calmly, ** I have inter- 
rupted you ; and the third person, I know, is always 
very unwelcome. Yet I have to risk it, Lloyd, as I 
have news for my cousin that may probably have 
some interest for her.” He had sworn to himself in 
the beginning of the evening that he would not dis- 
close the contents of the new telegram to her. But 
now — -now — well, it seems imperative now. ** I am 
sure” — with a cursory glance at Laurence — ‘‘you 
will excuse her.” 

“ What is it?” cries Chloe eagerly, abruptly. To 
Laurence it seems quite plain that there is something 
of fear in her tone. He follows her as she moves to- 
wards Carlton. 

“ Chloe, let me take you back to the house,” says 
he, “ if you don’t wish to stay here — if ” 

“ No, no, no !” Chloe puts up two little impatient, 
imperious hands. ** Do go away, and let me hear 
what Granby has to say.” 

Laurence turns aside as if shot. He disappears in 
the darkness ; and Chloe, already forgetful of his 
ever having been here, cries quickly : 

236 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


Now what is it ? He — he 

Yes — he is worse.” 

“Ah!” If he had looked for grief in the small 
ejaculation, he does not find it. He finds rather 
relief. She is glad, then, that he is worse. 

“ I have had a telegram,” says Carlton. “ He is 
distinctly worse. Your guardian — your step-uncle — 
Blakeney — sent it. It is very bad news indeed. He 
says he can’t live beyond a few days. In fact, Chloe, 
he is dying.” 

Chloe looks at him. 

“ You call that bad news ?” says she. 

“ Chloe!'' 

“ I don’t 1” — with distinct meaning — “ I call it good 
news. I’ll be free, you know. One likes to be free. 
Of course, I’m shocking you, Granby, but as I am 
always doing that, it doesn’t count. And so he is 
dying ?” 

“ Great heavens ! you must feel it in some 
way I” 

“ I don’t indeed. I feel nothing — except” — slowly 
— “ that what you tell me is too good to be true.” 
Suddenly she turns to him. “ Is it true ? Tell me.” 
Her voice has changed — has grown a little wild. 
“ Tell me — is it true ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“Ah I” 

“ Chloe, listen to me.” 

“ No.” She puts out her hands as if to thrust him 
from her, and faces him defiantly. 

Such a pale, beautiful thing she looks, with her 
slender frame shaken by passion — by that great storm 
237 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


of rage that springs alone from a sense of injus- 
tice. And surely injustice is of all senses the 
strongest. 

“ It is you who shall listen to me now,” she says 
in a low, concentrated voice. You have made me 
out frivolous, heartless, worthless ; but there is one 
thing, Granby, you will never make me out, in spite” 
— bitterly — “ of all your efforts ; and that is a hypo- 
crite! You think I ought to wear sackcloth and 
ashes because this man is dying. Why ? Because 
he illtreated me, betrayed me, insulted me, during 
the few short months I lived with him ? Are you” 
— her nostrils dilating — a fool^ when you talk to me 
like that — when you expect grief from me at his im- 
pending death ? I tell you” — flinging up her head — 
” that night and morn I long to hear of that death 1 
That deathl' drawing a long breath, ** that will mean 
life to me.” 

She pauses. Her nature — so strange, so complex, 
so careless, so almost cruelly cynical, and yet so 
tender au fond — seems now to have come to a cross- 
road. Which way will she turn ? 

Carlton, unfortunately, gives her a wrong lead. 

** Have you no sense of decency ?” demands he 
sternly. He might not have been so harsh with her, 
perhaps, but for that little scene he had just witnessed. 
His tone decides her. 

None !” cries she. 

He dying, and you dancing !” 

She laughs. 

It sounds like a play, doesn’t it ? But don’t waste 
your dramatic lectures over me, Granby. Time 
238 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


should have taught you the inutility of it. I’m a 
pagan. You called me that once, long ago — last 
season, wasn’t it ? — in Lady Mary’s boudoir. And 
I told you then that I didn’t know whether I was a 
pagan, or a Goth, or an infidel, but that I should cer- 
tainly always do just as I liked, because ” She 

stops here, and a terribly forlorn expression grows on 
her young and lovely face. Because there was no 
one on earth who cared whether I was bad or good 
— whether I lived or died. And I tell you it is the 
same now ! I am my own mistress.” 

“To an extent.” Carlton’s face is whiter than 
hers ; it is full of pain. 

“ To an extent ! ” She frowns defiance at him. “ I 
defy you — I defy the world !” 

“ Your defiance will not prevent me doing what I 
can for you,” says Carlton coldly,' who has dragged 
himself back from that strange agitation of a moment 
ago to his normal mood. “ Some time ago I warned 
you I should tell the entire truth about you if — I saw 
a necessity for it — if, in fact, I saw you compromising 
yourself in any way.” 

“Well?” 

“ I think this affair with young Lloyd ” 

“ Oh, my dear Granby !” 

“ I am to understand by that, I suppose, that I am 
incapable of seeing your meaning? You underrate 
me there. I never supposed you did mean anything 
with Lloyd. But that he means something is only 
too plain ; and there shall be an end to it. This is 
Wednesday ; I give you till Friday to tell the truth 
to him yourself. If you refuse, I shall.” 

239 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ Final ?” She lifts her shoulders with a charming 
air. 

“Quite final.” Then: “Chloe” — turning quietly 
to her with quite a different tone — “ take my advice 
— the advice of an old friend — and go straight to Italy 
— to the dying bed of the man ” 

“ Whom I detest most on earth. No, thank you !” 

“ Have you no heart ?” 

“ For him ? — no.” 

“ No charity?” 

“ For him ? — no.” 

“I believe in my soul,” cries he furiously, “you 
have neither heart nor charity for any man !” 

He strides away from her into the darkness. 

And she ? She stands for a moment, the slightly 
insolent smile still upon her lips, her fingers still 
playing with the white feathers of her fan. 

“ How stupid !” she says presently, with fine dis- 
gust, “and how rude! He grows almost vulgar. 

To leave me here alone ! I used to think he was 

But I was mistaken. He is worse — even worse — 
than the others. Oh! how I hate him — with his 

moralities, and his duties, and his Well, he is 

the biggest fool in the world, anyway ! And ” 

Here she comes to a full stop. Tears are falling 
from her pretty eyes, are racing down to her still 
prettier lips, where she receives them with amaze- 
ment. 

“Ah!” cries she whimsically, even between her 
sobs, “he is not the biggest, after all; I’ve beaten 
him for once in his life !” 


240 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

“ No one is a hero to his valet.” 

Mrs. Fitzgerald during her drive home with the 
girls is singularly silent. This is, of course, scarcely 
remarked, because of the incessant flow of Cissy’s 
light-hearted observations on the men and their 
manners who had been her partners during the past 
delightful evening. 

When they are in the hall, however, Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald, who is looking a little pale and unhappy, lays 
her hand on Olivia’s arm. 

*‘A moment, darling. Major O’Hara He 

spoke, Olivia — of coming here to-morrow ” 

The terror in her mother’s eyes stills the girl. She 
feels mama would not wish her to marry an old 
man like that ; but — if a young man does not want 
her 

“I know, mama. Don’t look so — so soriy. I 
am not sorry. Let him come.” 

She goes up the stairs and straight to her room. 
There is a little dressing-room off it, and into this 
she creeps, languidly, miserably, dragging each step 
after the other, and in the blessed darkness and 
silence of it falls upon her knees. 

Sobs seem to rend her. 

'' Miss Olivia, darlin’ ! What is it all about ?” says 
a loving and familiar voice. “ What is it at all, me 
dear ? What ails ye like that, to be cryin’ yer purty 
241 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


eyes out ? Come an’ tell yer ould Feeney all about 
it.” 

“ It is nothing, Feeney, nothing. Nothing, really. 

I am crying — only — because ” 

Because,” says the shrewd old nurse, who adores 
her, “ye’re dreamin’ o’ marryin’ a man ould enough 
to be yer father. Bad cess to the ould fool ! What 
does he mane at all at all, by wishin’ to dhrag a 
young Christian crathure like you into a situation 
of that sort ? Arrah ! Miss Olivia, are ye mad to 
give in to him ?” 

“He has money, Feeney.” The girl’s face is 
•wretched. 

“ Hell’s full o’ money,” says the old woman sen- 
tentiously. 

“Oh! Feeney.” 

“Yes, yes; I know, me dear; I’m not sayin’ bad 
things about the Major. To my sight he seems a 
good man — real good. Miss Olivia, but” — with 
extraordinary force — “ ould / ” 

Olivia has subsided into a chair; her pretty chin 
has fallen into her palms. She looks forlorn. 

“ Everyone tells me he is so young,” says 
she. 

“ Everyone’s a fool 1” says the old nurse calmly. 
“ Haven’t ye noticed that, miss ? But, God for- 
give me, of course ye’re too young to notice any- 
thing. Well, ’tis this way now” — in an explanatory 
fashion — “he’s wan o’ thim ould young men that 
go on bein’ young until ye wondher if they haven’t 
forgotten whin they were created. But don’t ye 
be taken in by Major O’Hara, miss. He’s got a 
242 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


fresh colour, an* a bright eye — I grant ye that. Faith, 
he’s as everlastin’ as the hills, in my opinion; but 
he’s ould for all that — an’ very ould too ; an* I’d 
give him the go-by if I was you.” 

“ Oh, I can’t, Feeney.” Olivia turns aside. She 
pretends to trifle with the ornaments on her table, 
but the old woman, sad and distressed for her, can 
see that the tears are again running fast and furious 
down her cheeks. 

“ Oh, Miss Olivia ’* 

She would have gone to her — have consoled her 
— but now a soft voice comes to them along the 
corridor. 

“ Feeney, Feeney ! Come to me, Feeney.” 

It is a voice that is even dearer to her than Olivia’s. 
The voice of Dora ; the voice of the baby she had 
nursed so many years ago, and around whom her 
heart-strings have been tied ever since. 

Mama wants you,” says Olivia gently. “ You 
know she likes you to brush her hair. Go to her. 
And — and don’t say a word of what you have said 
to me, Feeney. She would be distressed; and — she 
has nothing to do with it — nothing, really ; and be- 
sides — I have made up my mind.” 

As if a child like you had any mind !” says 
Feeney (beneath her breath, however), as she closes 
the door behind her. 

A moment later she has crossed the corridor and 
is in Mrs. Fitzgerald’s room, and has marched 
straight up to her mistress, who is sitting in an 
attitude descriptive of the most extreme depression 
on a chair very far away from the looking-glass. 

1 6 243 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


** You have come, Feeney?” in a low and melan- 
choly tone. 

“ I have, Miss Dora. I beg your pardon — ma’am. 
Yes, I’ve come, Miss Dora. Is it in a plait ye’ll 
want it to-night, ma’am ?” 

“ Oh, never mind my hair,” with a touch of im- 
patience. “ As if it mattered — as if anything 
mattered, except ” She pauses. 

Miss Olivia ?” suggests Feeney, but not sym- 
pathetically. 

<‘Yes” — eagerly — “yes, Miss Olivia. It is about 
heVy Feeney. Major O’Hara has admired her for 
quite a long time, as you know ; but to-night — to- 
night, Feeney, he told me he was coming to-morrow 
to propose for her formally.” 

“And formally,’ whatever that may mane, he 
ought to be ashamed of himself for even thinkirC of 
it,” says Feeney in a fury. “ An’ faith. Miss Dora, ’tis 
yerself ought to be ashamed of it too ! — to think o’ 
marryin’ a child like that to an ould fellow like him !” 

“ Feeney !” 

“ Arrah ! Don’t be talkin’ ! Don’t be thryin’ to 
stop me. Isn't he ould for her? Doesn’t it seem 
like yestherday whin he come courtin’ yerself? An’ 
Masther George — God rest his sowl” — crossing her- 
self devoutly — “ used to be watchin’ him like a bear 
wid a sore head. Often I thought to see murther 
done between thim two boys, an’ yerself lookin’ on 
and not carin’ a thrawneen whether there’d be bloody 
wars or not.” 

“ Feeney, I ” 

“ Faix, I can see, me dear !” says the old woman, 
244 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


waving the protestation aside. “ ’ Tis as plain to me 
now as if it was goin’ on this minute. Twas a 
dozen o* thim ye had at yer heels, but only the mas- 
ther an’ the Major had a chance at all ! ’Twas a fine 
play-boy ye were then, Miss Dora ; an’ ’twasn’t ould 
gintlemen ye wanted, ayther.” 

“ Feeney ! You forget yourself!” Mrs. Fitzgerald 
draws back frowning, angry. 

“ Forget ! Faith, that’s the last thing wid me,” says 
Feeney. “ Me memory is the only thing (God help 
us I) that remains to me.” 

Her memory! Feeney’s memory! God help 
us indeed!” should cry all Feeney’s friends every 
now and then. ‘*An’ what I remimber best. Miss 
Dora, is that whin ye were Miss Olivia’s age ’tisn’t a 
man as ould as yer own grandfather ye’d be plasin’ 
yerself wid.” 

Major O’Hara,” says Mrs. Fitzgerald sharply, 
“is not old enough to be Miss Olivia’s grandfather!” 

“ Well” — placing her hands upon her ample hips — 
“ answer me this. Miss Dora. Is he, or is he not, 
ould enough to be her father ? Fegs ! I well re- 
mimber the time whin, at all events, he wanted to be 
her father !” 

“ Really, Feeney !” with indignation. 

“ Oh ! ’Tis vexed ye are now, ma’am, by what I’m 
sayin’. An’ sorry it is I am to have to vex you — 
who is the very sowl o’ me ; ye know that, darlin’, 
don’t ye ? But Miss Dora, ma’am, I never could abide 
the marryin’ of the young to the ould. An’ ould 
he is, for Miss Olivia, beyant all sayin’ — though I’m 
not denyin’ him his good looks, miss — an’ his good 
245 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


heart, ma’am. But he is Well, faith. Miss Dora, 

’tis too young for him you look yerself^ this blessed 
minit !” Mrs. Fitzgerald grows suddenly crimson — 
so crimson that the old woman regards her sharply 
for a second — the mere fraction of a second, indeed 
— then drops her eyes. But Feeney has wonderful 
eyes; and what she doesn’t see — according to her 
cronies — isn’t worth seeing. 

“ You seem to blame me in some way for this 
affair,” says Mrs. Fitzgerald — “this affair between 
Olivia and Major O’Hara.” Then, with sudden 
anger: “ Sit down, Feeney, and don’t stand there 
as if you wanted to pose as an accusing angel ! One 
would imagine by your air that I — I had compelled 
Miss Olivia to accept him ! For the matter of that, 
I don’t know whether she will accept him or not ; 
and I declare most solemnly to you that I never 
once ^aid to her : * Do accept him.’ I left it entirely 
to herself.” 

“ That’s wan way o’ doin’ it — of makin it sure / ” 
says Feeney, unmoved. 

“Oh, you are most unjust — unjust!” cries her 
mistress. “ Feeney 1 to misjudge me like that I — you^ 
who have always loved me 1” 

“ Well, Miss Dora,” says the old woman slowly, 
“ I must say as I think. Would you have me lie to 
you at this time o’ day ? What you didn't say to 
her, ma’am, is of no good at all. What did ye say 
to her ? That’s what I’d like to hear. Did ye say : 
‘ Don't marry him, darlin’ ?’ Ah, I’m afraid ye didn’t 
say that, ma’am.” 

“ No.” Mrs. Fitzgerald looks now very pale and 
246 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

haggard. Why had she so held back ? Was it alto^ 
gether a desire for her daughter’s marriage with this 
rich man that had tied her tongue ? Or was there 
something further — something that told her she would 
be so glad if the girl refused him that she hardly dared 
to press her to the doing of it ? 

*‘We are very poor, Feeney,” she says in a low 
voice; ^*and — and the children don’t like poverty. 
They don’t seem to understand it. And you know I 
have been pinched all my life ; and — / didn’t like it 
either. I should like Olivia to rescue herself from 
this Slough of Despond if — if — she can. And we 
want money rather badly just now.” 

** But I thought Miss Chloe’s cornin’ ” 

** Yes, I know%” sighing. But, you see, I owed 
the two hundred she paid me, and — her very coming 
has helped us to get into debt again.” 

‘*Why don’t ye spake to Sir Hardress, darlin’? 
Who has a betther right to help ye than he has — yer 
own sisther’s husband ?” 

“ I couldn’t, Feeney. I” — in a low tone, and with 
her pretty face lowered, and dyed with shame — “ I 
once asked him to lend me — some money — and he 
— refused.” 

'' Oh, the naygur !” cries Feeney in a fury. “ May 

all the saints ov Heaven refuse him whin But 

there! what’s the good o’ talkin’? Oh, murther! 
What an ould skin-flint ! Faith, I won’t be able to 
die till I tell him what I think of him 1” 

Never mind that,” says Mrs. Fitzgerald, wiping 
her eyes. ** I am thinking of Miss Olivia now. You 
are right, Feeney. It would be an unnatural mar- 
247 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


riage. And I daresay we shall be able to pull through 
after all, especially if Miss Jones stays on with us ; 
and she seems very happy and contented here, dear 
little girl. I shall go to Olivia now and tell her she 

shall not marry Major O’Hara ; I ” 

“ No, mama !’* The door is open ; Olivia is stand- 
ing just inside it. **You shall not tell me that! 
I have quite made up my mind — quite! Major 
O’Hara is the only man on earth who wishes to 
marry me — who cares for me. Why should I refuse 
him ? Feeney ! I told you not to speak to mama, 
but I felt you were going to do it. When Major 
O’Hara comes to-morrow, mama, I shall say ‘yes* 
to him.’* 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

“ And the nights shall be filled with music, 

And the cares that infest the day 
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs 
And as silently steal away.” 

“ Girls,” says Mrs. Fitzgerald, in a low and tragic 
tone, “he is coming! Yes — up the avenue. I saw 
his hat between the rhododendrons.” 

It is the next day, and, standing just inside the sit- 
ting-room that contains the two girls, she looks at 
Olivia. Olivia, however, refuses to look at her. 

“ What a hurry he is in !” cries Cissy, with a little 
anger. “Why, it is only eleven! Could he not 
have waited ” 

“I suppose not,” returns her mother, the lines 
248 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


about her mouth deepening. “Olivia” — nervously 
— “had you not better change your frock? That 
one is a little shabby.” 

“Am I, then, to deck myself for the sacrifice?” 
Olivia rises with a rather reckless laugh, and moves 
towards the door. 

“ Why do you speak to me like that ?” cries her 
mother, with a sudden and, for her, most unusual 
burst of anger. “ No, dorit go ! Stay here, Olivia. 
/ shall go — and tell Major O’Hara you have made 
up your mind ; that you have decided on not accept- 
ing him. And you are right — quite right. It is 
wrong — horrible — that at your age you should marry 
a man so much older than yourself. I will not let 
you speak to me as if I were driving you into such a 
marriage. I could not live under such a thought.” 

“ You have not driven me to it,” says Olivia. “ You 
have never so much as asked me to do it. Put that 
thought away, mama. I am doing this thing of my 
own free will, because I am mercenary, perhaps ; or 
perhaps — because ” 

“ Yes — go on,” says Cissy. “ Because ” 

“Because” — indifferently — “I daresay I shall be 
quite happy with him.” 

“ Oh, no ; that’s not it,” says Cissy. “ If one could 
get the real answer out of you, one would know a 
good deal. Well” — with a sigh — ^“come with me 
and change your dress.” 

“No, no!” cries Mrs. Fitzgerald, pale and trem- 
bling. But Olivia stops her. 

“ I am sorry I made that stupid remark,” says she 
very gently; and very tenderly, too, she slips her 
249 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


arms round her mother’s neck and kisses her. ** Oh, 
mama ! as if could try to make anyone unhappy ! 
You — who are the very dearest and sweetest. No, 
no; I am doing this, really, rea/fy — and only — be- 
cause I wisk to do it.” 

” But think, my darling !” holding her with both 
hands as the girl tries to escape. 

** I have thought,” smiling bravely. She has in- 
deed thought, poor child, of the blessing it will be — 
this dreaded marriage of hers — to her mother and 
her sister. 

‘‘You” — earnestly — “have guiU made up your 
mind, Olivia ? Remember, it is the last moment.” 

“ Quite,” steadily, yet always with that somewhat 
fixed smile. 

“You are a little early, James,” says Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald, as she crosses the cool, somewhat shabby 
old drawing-room to receive the Major. “ We — I — 
hardly expected you so soon.” 

“ Is it early ?” asks the Major, who looks decidedly 
nervous. “ It seems a deuce of a time since break- 
fast. Of course” — twisting his hat about — “ if I am 
too soon ” 

“ Oh, no, no. What a tone to take with an old 
friend !” 

“Ah, yes; we are old friends, aren’t we, Dora? 
Once” — with a distinct increase of his awkward- 
ness — “we were — that is — er — I was something 
more.” 

What a thing to say just now ! Mrs. Fitzgerald’s 
face shews a touch of displeasure. She makes no 
250 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


reply, and this, coupled with the gravity of her face, 
gives the Major pause, of a somewhat disagreeable 
kind. 

“You said last night,” says he, leaning a little 
towards her, “ that to-day I might speak. You re- 
member ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“You meant it, Dora?” 

“ Yes, yes ; of course,” a little faintly. 

“ Does that mean ” The Major seems uncon- 

trollably anxious, and stops short. “ Do you re- 
member too how, twenty years ago, I asked you a 
certain question, and that your answer was — un- 
favourable ?” 

“ I remember” — growing very pale — “.that too. 
But this is quite different.” She knows he his 
alluding to that silly time when he had believed him- 
self in love with her, and had proposed to her, and 
had taken his dismissal somewhat badly. Olivia 
being so like her in face and form, he no doubt 
dreads a similar repulse from the daughter. 

“ There will be no unfavourable answer this time,” 
she says, quite distinctly, though her heart is dying 
within her. Olivia certainly had (only a moment 
ago, as it were) declared her determination of accept- 
ing Major O’Hara’s hand But who on this earth 

is clever enough to know what a young girl really 
means, and what she will do at the last moment? 
And even if she did do it — the “ it” is not particu- 
larly defined — she — her mother — would not be the 
one to blame her. 

“ Dora !” says the Major. He has risen. He 

251 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


looks pale, even through the tan of his skin, but as 
triumphant as if he had taken a fort, single-handed. 

“A moment — a moment,” says Mrs. Fitzgerald, 
raising her hand with some agitation. “Before 

you Do let me say something, James, as an 

old, old friend. I am glad, naturally, that you are 
so happy about it. But — there are things to be con- 
sidered — to be thought of— and one thing there is 
certainly, for which we must be prepared to make 
allowances.” Her beautiful eyes fill with tears, as 
she thinks of Olivia. “ I mean the difference of age. 
You must not be angry with me, James, but there is 
a great disparity.” 

The Major stares at her for a moment, then drops 
his eyes. He is silent. Well, hang it all! Dora 
is going a little far. He is not such an old dodderer 
as all that comes to ! Nor is she so — so violently 
young as she seems to think. But here he stops. 
Hang it all, again I She is young — confoundedly 
young — next to him — though there are only a few 
years between them. She looks, indeed, as she used 
to look in those sweet dead days when first he met 
her. Her dear and pretty face has known but little 
change since then — now nearly twenty years ago. 

Such is the blindness of the honest lover. Though 
it must be confessed that in the “dear and pretty 
face” there are excuses for Major O’Hara’s infatua- 
tion. 

“ Not so very great a disparity after all, Dora,” 
he ventures to say — in a rather stammering tone 
certainly, and with his eyes still lowered. He coughs, 
and looks distinctly confused, if not, indeed, alto- 
252 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


gether ashamed of himself. A lady’s age, the Major 
tells himself, is sacred ; and if Dora, who really only 
looks thirty or so, wishes to think herself that, who 
the deuce is he to step forward and remind her of 
her real age, which is 

‘‘Oh, James!” Mrs. Fitzgerald flushes hotly — 
a touch of nature that reduces her age at once to 
twenty-nine. Has he gone mad? “Not so very 
great I” Good gracious, who would have thought 
James so absurdly blind to his age ! “ Surely you 

must see it yourself,” she says gently. “ Not that I 
think it need for a moment interfere with your happi- 
ness. But — well, you ” she hesitates ; she knows 

he is forty-nine, but says : “You are well over forty, 
you know, and ” 

“And you,” says the Major involuntarily, “are 
well over thirty, Dora.” 

When these awful words have passed his lips the 
Major grows apoplectic. A full-blown peony would 
hardly describe him. That Dora will never again 
so much as see him, occurs to him as a certainty — 
and yet a fight for it was inevitable. 

To his immense astonishment, he hears Dora 
laugh. It is quite an irrepressible little laugh, and 
there is no venom in it. 

“Well over thirty!'' laughing still. “What a 
courtier you are, James I But why drag my years 
into the discussion ? What have I got to do with it ? 
Olivia’s age” — she grows very grave again — “ Olivia 
is not yet, James — not yet quite twenty.” 

“Olivia!” The Major stares, then springs to 
his feet. “Olivia! What has she got to do with 
253 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

it?’^ Has some glimmer of the truth come to 
him ? 

It is now Mrs. Fitzgerald’s turn to stare, and it 
must be said she does it handsomely. 

Do you mean to tell me,” she exclaims at last, 
“ that you have not come here to-day to propose for 
Olivia ? That you are not in love with her ?” 

“ With Olivia ! — with that child ! God bless me, 
Dora ! are you mad ?” 

‘"Then” — faintly — “what brought you here to- 
day ?” 

“ Why, you !” cries the Major in a loud, clear tone. 
“ Did you think I could ever look at another woman 
while you were alive ? I loved you twenty years ago, 
Dora, and I’ve loved you every year since that, and 
— I love you now. Don’t tell me” — with a step 
towards her, and an appealing yet stern air — “ that 
all the encouragement you gave me last night 
meant nothing ; that it was only meant for Olivia ; 
that you will now undo — destroy — all the happiness 
on which I have been living for these few past inter- 
minable hours.” 

Mrs. Fitzgerald, who has grown very white, says 
nothing. 

“ Speak, Dora. Are you going to send me about 
my business ?” 

“ No, James, no ; I shall not do that.” Her voice 
is very low. “ But ” 

“ Well” — still a little sternly — “ are you going to 
tell me I am too old a fellow to dream of love ? Fm 
noty anyway!” this with considerable defiance. “I 
dream of you from morning till night, and back 
254 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


again. No” — indignantly — “ you need not look at 
me like that. I am not one bit ashamed of being as 
much in love with you now as I was when a boy, so 
many years ago. Refuse me again if you like ” 

“ James !” She holds out her hands to him. She 
is smiling, but her eyes are full of tears. ** 1 shall 
not refuse you.” 

“What an absurd misunderstanding!” the Major 
is saying five minutes later. “ Do you know, even 
last night, when you told me I might come to-day, I 
had still some misgivings. That touch about ‘re- 
spect’ — you remember you said you ‘ respected me’ 
— seemed to strike cold. Odious word, respect, eh ?” 

“Yes, isn’t it?” says Mrs. Fitzgerald, who has 
always been so circumspect. “ But I’ll never use it 
again. It — it isn’t respect I feel for you, James.” 

“ Oh, come now, Dora !” 

“ No it isn’t,” laughing. “ It is — you’ll be horri- 
fied, I know ; and at my age, too ; but — I must con- 
fess to you the fact that I love you. Yes, I do 
indeed.” 

“Dora!” 

“ And that” — laughing very merrily now — “ I have 
been in love with you for twelve long months.” 

The Major regards her with severity. 

“ Oh, Dora !” says he, regarding her with as near an 
attempt at reproach as he can reach, “ why on earth, 
my love, didn’t you say so before ?” 

“ Why indeed ! For one thing — because I thought 
you were in love with Olivia.” 

“ What awful rot !” says the Major. “ As if, when 

255 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


you were there ” and so on. Then after a while, 

and somewhat shamefacedly : “ Fm afraid I was very 
rude to you a while ago — about the disparity of our 
ages, you know.” 

“Yes,” slowly, as if rather trying to remember. 
“ Oh ! Did you think, then, I was speaking of your 

and my age ? That when I spoke of disparity 

Oh, James, what must you have thought of me !” 

“ My goodness, Dora, it is what did you think of 
me ! I said, you know, ‘ not so great a disparity’ — eh ? 
Beastly rude you know ; what ?” 

Here there is a little pause ; and then, each catch- 
ing the other’s eye, they laugh until they nearly cry. 

“ Oh, mama !” It is Cissy who speaks. “ Here 
you are at last. We thought you would never come. 
Is — is ” 

“ Yes, am I to go down now ?” breaks in Olivia in 
a low and frightened tone. All her courage of a 
while ago has deserted her in a most unfriendly 
fashion. She looks pale ; there is terror in her 
large and lovely eyes — her eyes so like her mother’s. 

If Olivia looks frightened, Mrs. Fitzgerald un- 
doubtedly looks dreadfully ashamed of herself 

“ No, not yet. Don’t go down yet,” she stammers. 

“ Mama, what is it — what has happened ?” cries 
Cissy. “ Something has happened.” 

“Yes — something. But Oh, girls” — now 

half laughing and half crying — “ I don’t know how 
to tell you.” She stops. The girls can see she is 
blushing, and that she is happy — and looking so 
young. “ We were all wrong, it seems,” she says 
256 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


with an effort, her eyes wet, but a smile upon her 
pretty face. ‘‘ It — it isn’t Olivia he wants, after all.” 

“ Good heavens ! I hope it isn’t me !” says Cissy 
with consternation. 

No, no.” The girls stare at her. Mama is look- 
ing quite confused. “ The fact is — I” — growing even 
more nervous beneath the gaze of those four young 
eyes — “ I hardly quite know how to say it, but he — 
it’s absurd, I know, only ” 

“ Oh, do go on, mama.” 

*‘Well — it is perfectly ridiculous, of course; and 

besides Now, don't laugh, girls.” Neither of 

the girls is in the least inclined for mirth. Oh, 
well” — desperately — “ it’s me he wants to marry I” 

A long and impressive silence. Then suddenly 
Olivia begins to laugh — uncertainly, almost fever- 
ishly — and as suddenly as she began she stops. 

Mama,” cries she, “ you shan’t do it ! It is for 
us ! But we won’t let you ! Cissy — speak to her.” 

“ It is out of the question !” declares Cissy instantly. 

As if we would consent to your making yourself 
miserable — a perfect martyr — for our sakes !” 

Mrs. Fitzgerald has paled, and reddened, and 
paled again, beneath this fire of tenderness. 

“ But — you don’t understand,” she breathes faintly. 
“ If — if you wouldn’t mind, children, I think I — 
should like to marry Major O’Hara.” 

She buries her face in her hands. The murder is 
out. How — how will they take it ? 

The sound as if of someone convulsed or choking 
now moves the quiet air. Mrs. Fitzgerald starts. 
Good heavens ! which of them is taking it so badly 
257 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


as this ? She glances hurriedly up, to find both girls 
sunk deep into one huge armchair, their handker- 
chiefs pressed to their faces, and as near apoplexy as j 
young girls can get, through their efforts to suppress ' j 
their uncontrollable mirth. ' 

“ Well, really, girls !” says Mrs. Fitzgerald, perhaps 
just a little offended. 

“Oh, mamy darling, don’t mind us. It’s — it’s 
joy r cries Cissy, getting up and running to her. 

“ Isn’t it splendid ! Oh, that dear, dear Major ! I 
have always loved him.” 

“Yes; and so have I,” cries Olivia. “And he w 
young, mama. Very nearly — young enough for 
you, anyway. I — where is he? — is he down-stairs j 
still ?” 

“ Yes.” Mrs. Fitzgerald is now radiant. “ He — 
he says he should like to spend the day here. There ' 
are things to be talked over, you know. He’ll stay 
for lunch certainly. Cissy” — anxiously — “what is : 
there?” 

“ It’s all right. Cutlets and tomatoes and a pie ; 
that will do your heart good. I made it.” 

“ I’m going down to see him !” cries Olivia ex- . 
citedly. “ I must tell him how I love him !” With ; 
this astounding remark she slips out of the room 
(quite a new Olivia already) and tumbles down the 
staircase into the drawing-room, and straight into the 
Major’s arms, who is looking as proud as Punch. ^ 

“ Oh,” cries Olivia penitently, “ I have been horrid S 
to you sometimes, haven’t I ? but I didn’t mean it. - 
I loved you all the time, really ; only ” 

“ Only you loved Tom more ?” 

258 I 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

“ Tom !” She colours violently, Oh, no, no ; 
only I thought you wanted to marry me / ” 

The Major roars in the fulness of his joy, and 
gives her a hearty hug. 

‘‘ Come here and sit down, and let us talk of Dora 
— of your mother. IVe no one else to talk to about 
her. IVe tried /ler, indeed ; but she only laughs at 
me. It sounds queer to you, this new arrangement, 
doesn’t it, eh ? I’m close on fifty, you know, but for 
I twenty-nine years I’ve loved your mother and her 

only. Not another soul. I like to tell you that, 
|; Olivia. I like you to know, to understand, what a 

j sweet creature she is. Do you know, Olivia, I don’t 

regret now those sad years when I was without her ; 
not now, when she is going to have me after all. And 
I’m glad I’ll be able to do so much for her, and to 
look after you all, and to give her everything, and — » 
and what would she like for a present just at once, 
Olivia, eh ? Do you know any fancy of hers, eh ?” 
He stops suddenly, seeing the girl’s eyes fixed on his. 
“I suppose,” says he, a little shamefacedly, ‘‘you 
think I am an old fool 1” 

“ I think you are a darling !” says Olivia, solemnly 
and most sincerely. 

It is now a little later, and Chloe has been found — 
has been brought in from her favourite walk in the 
garden to hear the delightful news, to congratulate 
the Major and Mrs. Fitzgerald. Chloe is most openly 
and charmingly delighted. She had always been a 
little indignant with Olivia for dreaming of marrying 
a man so much older than herself ; had counselled 
her very wisely about it, and argued with her so 

17 259 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


cleverly on the subject that Faith,” as Feeney had 
said in her secret wisdom, ‘‘ wan would think she’d 
had exparience of it, an’ had been through it her 
own self.” 

By-and-bye, as the morning wears on, Tom and 
Laurence drop in, to be surprised, and pleased — and, 
in one case at all events, to be astounded — at this 
strange engagement. It had been broken to them 
by the Major himself in the happiest fashion, and 
with a distinct touch of friendliness towards Tom. 
But Tom had not dared to respond to the friendli- 
ness. He had coloured a dark red to his very 
temples, muttered something presumably suitable — 
but unheard — and turned away. And turning, he 
had wished to goodness he had not been such a 
brute to the Major at that dinner a few days ago. 

Now they are all, on this sultry, delicious after- 
noon, sitting or standing, as the fancy takes them, 
in the drawing-room of The Hermitage, or on the 
verandah that opens out of it. The Major, catching 
sight of a morning paper lying on a small table at 
his left, leans lazily towards it, and picks it up. 

“ Give you my word,” says he, I never thought 
of the morning news until this minute.” 

Everyone laughs. 

Oh, Major !” cries Chloe playfully, adjuring him 
with a little uplifted forefinger, you are giving your- 
self away!” 

The Major accepts this sally very cheerfully, 
indeed, with marked pleasure, and unfolds the paper. 
He considers he has given himself away to the very 
dearest woman in all the world, and what can a 
260 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

man want more than that ? His eyes skim over the 
pages. It can hardly be called reading ; his mind is 
too full of events near at hand to feel much interest 
in the Transvaal, or Buluwayo, or that troublesome 
person Oom Paul. But in spite of his pleasant 
dilettante mood, his eyes catch and rest on one sen- 
tence, and he stops — startled, arrested. 

By Jove !” says he in a loud, surprised tone. 

They all look up. 

‘‘ Kruger gone wrong again ?” asks Laurence idly. 
He had read the morning papers, and had seen noth- 
ing fresh about the Transvaal. 

''Nothing of that. But I see here that Lord 
Burlingham is dead! A good riddance, too, of bad 
rubbish. Dropped down suddenly, it seems, 
and ” 

As the words are on his lips the door is opened 
with extraordinary vehemence by Carlton, who 
strides up the room, his eyes not for his hostess, but 
for the window beyond, where Chloe, ghastly now, 
and with dilated eyes and parted lips, is standing. 

As Carlton advances towards her, so she advances 
towards him, and her face, set like marble, her tragic 
air, tell him everything. 

"You have heard ?” cries he. She holds out her 
arms and sways forward. He catches her. 

" Is it true ?” she gasps. 

" Quite true,” slowly. She breathes heavily. 
Mrs. Fitzgerald runs to her. 

" Oh I what is this, Chloe ? Oh, Chloe” — an awful 
doubt assails her gentle soul — " what was this man 
to you ?” 


261 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


** Speak, Chloe !” whispers Carlton eagerly. Chloe 
lifts her white face, but in doing so her eyes have met 
those of Laurence. There is such a wealth of 
pectant misery in his, of immediate scorn and con- 
tempt, that, perhaps for the first time in all her young 
and most unhappy life, she loses courage. She 
falters, hesitates. 

Speak now,” says Carlton, who is still holding 
her, and is a little afraid for her. For God’s sake, 
Chloe, tell the truth yourself!” 

“ Oh ! the truth 1” She pushes him from her, 
and turns to Mrs. Fitzgerald. “ Lord Burlingham 
was ” Again the dreadful hesitation. 

“Was ?” Mrs. Fitzgerald’s tone is full of 

poignant anxiety. 

“ My husband! ” 

As Chloe says this, dead to all the consternation, 
the surprised horror around her, she looks, with a 
dull smile, at Carlton: “You said you would give 
me — till Friday — ^before you betrayed me; you see” 
— swaying again — “ you have not had — to wait — so 
long.” 

She falls forward in a dead faint. 


262 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

“ There is no accounting for the difference of minds or inclinations.’* 

** I THINK it was an extremely treacherous act on 
your part !” 

Mrs. Fitzgerald is looking quite seriously angry, 
for her — the angrier, perhaps, in that all her anger 
seems to fall against a solid rock, in the form of the 
person she is addressing. 

Mrs. Gilbert, indeed, had come down post haste; 
had travelled straight through from London, and 
had arrived in Aughribeg early this afternoon. It 
is now the second afternoon since the extraordinary 
news of Lord Burlingham’s death and his relation- 
ship to Chloe had been made public; and Major 
O’Hara’s strange fancy on first seeing her, that her 
face was familiar to him, became quite clear. He 
had, indeed, seen her years before at her guardian’s 
house {Iter house, rather) when she was a mere 
child. Chloe had recovered very quickly from her 
fainting attack, and ever since had shewn the most 
open callousness as to her loss. She had, however, 
so far conceded to the laws of conventionality as not 
to appear to anyone except those in the house ; but 
beyond that she had refused to go. 

To Mrs. Fitzgerald this seems a little dreadful, 
but through it all she feels that there is a sort of 
queer honesty about this strange girl — this bride of 
six months — who had been bought from her guardian 
before she knew what the world meant, and who had 
263 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


been cast aside before half of her first year’s wife- 
hood had gone by. Chloe, however, it seems, had 
been an apt pupil. Those six months of the world 
had taught her a good deal. 

“My dearest Dora! What a curious way of 
putting it 1” Mrs. Gilbert, a small, fair woman with 
wonderfully yellow hair (is it honestly yellow?) 
spreads her hands abroad. 

“ Curious I” Mrs. Fitzgerald’s tone now grows 
actually stern. “ The most curious thing about this 
whole dreadful affair is the impression conveyed in 
your letters to me. They seem to have been fabrica- 
tions from the first. You gave me the distinct im- 
pression that she was a young girl, escaping, under 
your advice, from a tyrannical guardian. Now, there 
was no guardian to speak of, and you did not men- 
tion the husband.” 

“ I certainly mentioned that someone had caused 
her great unhappiness.” 

“ Yes ; but that applied to the guardian. You let 
me think she was escaping from him ; whereas she 
was running away from her husband.” 

“And very justly, too. But if I had told you 

that My dearest Dora, can’t you see that if 

I had told you that, I should have told you every- 
thing — and secrecy was imperative ?” 

“You led me to think she was a girl^ at all 
events.” 

“ Well” — triumphantly — “ isn’t she a girl ? And 
I think I mentioned that she was to come in for a 
fortune shortly. I’m bound to confess I telegraphed 
to the trustees about the will before I crossed last 
264 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

night, and it is all right! She has come in for a 
fortune. Not the houses, you understand, or the 
lands. They are all entailed on Granby Carlton; 
but a very handsome sum, to be paid down. It 
seems that that other dreadful creature — unspeak- 
able, dearest Dora, but a very dream of beauty, I 
have heard — was a little stupid about matters of 
settlement. That sort of person always lives in the 
moment ! — so wanting, you know. And therefore, 
in spite of Burlingham’s penchant for her, 

our sweet Chloe comes in for quite a handsome 
sum. Not that she wants it — beyond the fact that 
we all want everything — because she has quite a 
fortune of her own, and a charming place, in which 
Mr. Blakeney — the guardian, you know — has resided 
up to this. I do hope she will turn him out now. 
But Chloe, to tell the truth, is a little — a very little — 
uncertain, eh ?” 

Mrs. Fitzgerald reflects somewhat sadly. Chloe 
has been a disappointment to her. She had believed 
in the pretty, merry girl — but 

‘‘ We have all grown very fond of her,’* she says 
in a low tone. 

“So clever of you!” Mrs. Gilbert speaks with 
effusion. “I’m tremendously fond of her myself” 
(considerably fonder of her since yesterday, she 
ought to have said, but refrains). 

“ I wish she had not come here,” says Mrs. Fitz- 
gerald. “ I wish you had been open with me. You 
know you distinctly gave the impression that she 
was ” 

“ Going to be one of the richest women in Eng- 
265 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


land. Well, so she was ; and so she is — now. Bur- 
lingham, when she married him, was, as I knew, 
and as Mr. Blakeney knew too, very far gone in 
consumption. He hadn’t a lung to stand on. That 
was why I wrote to you. And surely, my dear 
Dora, I predicted very cleverly. He has died within 
the six months I prophesied, and she has come in 
for — if not an immense fortune, at all events a very 
desirable one. Besides which, she is free — and a 
very good thing, too. He was thoroughly impossible. 
Disreputable is a rude word for one who is dead, but 
I’m afraid I must use it. And she is now Lady 
Burlingham — rich, unattached, and a cousin of 
whom I feel very justly proud.” 

Proud ?” 

“ Certainly. A young creature like that, beautiful 
and rich, can’t you imagine how well she will marry 
next time ? There are several young Dukes in the 
market just now.” 

“You thought her late husband disreputable?’* 
Mrs. Fitzgerald regards her earnestly. 

“ He had a reputation that Well, dearest, I 

think we had better not go into it. But with all 
that, he had a face like a seraph, and manners that 
were enviable.” 

“ He was elderly?’* 

“ Old — positively old ! — and abominable ! But 
rich and charming, as I have said. And the poor 
child (Chloe was really only a little hoyden of a 
thing when Burlingham saw her and fancied her) 
was sold to him by that terrible old Mr. Blakeney 
for twenty thousand pounds.’* 

266 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


** Oh, no / ” Mrs. Fitzgerald rises, as if in uncon- 
trollable horror. 

Her cousin sighs prettily. 

“ I knew you would be shocked, dear Dora, when 
you heard about it, and would see how justified I was 
in sending her to you. Now” — sweetly — “you 
know all.” 

“Very little.” There is a touch of repulsion in 
Mrs. Fitzgerald’s tone. “ For one thing, you con- 
fess you thought him disreputable ; yet I have heard 
that you too, Maud, wanted to marry him !” 

If she had thought to see her enemy overthrown 
by this accusation, she finds herself mistaken. Mrs. 
Gilbert regards her with an unbroken front. 

“ This comes of living in a little village for a cen- 
tury,” she says. “ My good Dora, we all wanted 
to marry him. And that, that child — that mere 
baby ” 

“ I don’t care about the others.” Mrs. Fitzgerald 
interrupts her brusquely. “ You are my cousin in a 
way, and you knew him to be unworthy — horri- 
ble ” 

“ But the richest man in England !” 

“ And at the point of death !” 

“Ah” — simply — “there you have it! The very 
keynote !” She makes a charming little pass with 
her hands. “ One could regard the money and the 
freedom as so near^ you see.” 

Mrs. Fitzgerald pales. Such people — such thoughts 
— have rarely come within the circle of her gentle, 
kindly, uneventful life. And that Chloe — that child 
— to Mrs. Fitzgerald Chloe has seemed little more 
267 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


than a child — that she should have been sold into 
such an atmosphere 

“ It is terrible !” she cries suddenly, pressing her 
fingers to her eyes, as if to shut out something. 

“ About our dear Chloe ! Yes, I knew you would 
see it, and do me justice at last. The dear girl, if 
unbearably miserable with her wretched guardian, 
was even more so with Burlingham, and when she 
consulted me with regard to getting rid of him in a 
decent way (after his flight to Egypt — I mean Italy 
of course — with that shocking person), I looked 
round me, and thought of you.” 

I wish” — coldly — “ you hadn’t.” 

How ungrateful, Dora! You know very well 
that at the time you were glad enough to get that 
two hundred pounds.” 

“ I cannot permit you to speak to me like that,” 
says Mrs. Fitzgerald, who is now very pale. “You 
know as well as I do that if I had known then what 
I know now, for no consideration on earth would I 
have taken her into my house.” 

“ Well, well ; I daresay not. My good-nature 
often leads me astray,” says Mrs. Gilbert, who thinks 
it well to temporise — to humour her. The young 
and rich and widowed Lady Burlingham will be a 
feature in next year’s season, and Mrs. Fitzgerald has 
enough relatives in town to make Mrs. Gilbert’s part 
in the story of Chloe’s running away look very ugly 
for the latter. The society papers, for one thing, are, 
as her American friends say, “ so glad to get the 
laugh on you” at any moment, that she thinks it wise 
to conciliate even so mild an enemy as Mrs. Fitz- 
268 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


gerald. ‘^And of course, I know, Dora, that you 
would be the last to connive at anything. I feel 
sorry now I wrote to you about it; but I only 
thought of doing you, and her, a good turn ; she 
was so young ; and you so sweet, so motherly.” 

“You forget the scandal in which it might have 
launched me and my girls. In which” — slowly — “ it 
is sure to launch us — even now.” 

“Oh, Dora, dearest! Really, you are terribly 
behind the times. Why, it will be an advertisement 
for your dear girls 1” 

“ God forbid I” says Dora solemnly. 

“ This is folly 1” severely. “ I assure you she will 
be most useful to you later on — to your girls, I mean 
— so bound to you as she must be by the kindly ties 
of hospitality. She will take them out — will marry 

them well — will I am quite positive that when 

her mourning is over — when she has thrown aside 
her weeds — horrid word ! — she ” 

“ She is not going into mourning 1” says Mrs. 
Fitzgerald suddenly. 

“ What 1” Mrs. Gilbert looks horrified. 

“ No. I have reasoned with her, but she will not 
order any black clothes.” 

“ How disgraceful !” Mrs. Gilbert seems really 
scandalised. “Not to put on crape — even for a 
month or two! To run away from her husband, 
that was nothing — a little freak, an eccentricity — and 
to be eccentric nowadays is so fashionable — but not 
to put on mourning for him !” 

“ She says” — Mrs. Fitzgerald’s voice is depressed 
— “she feels no grief!” 


269 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“ What on earth has that got to do with it ? You 
know, my dear Dora, how I loathed poor Paul — and 
for that very reason I doubled my crape ; put on five 
extra flounces — flounces were worn then — and kept 
it up for fully a year and a half! Mourning” — re- 
flectively — “ suits my complexion.” 

Mrs. Fitzgerald’s eyes fill with tears. 

You must feel sometimes 1” she says, with almost 
a touch of despair in her tone. 

“ Feel 1 I’m all feeling 1” cries Mrs. Gilbert tragi- 
cally. “ But I daren’t let it be seen. It gets into my 
nose. I assure you, my dear Dora, once I give way 
to sentiment I am a wreck — an object I I can’t afford 
it I Now, you — how happy you are, — you can give 
your heart full sway. Feeling is becoming to you ; 
it suits you ; it gives you points. I have always 
wondered how you did it. Long ago, when first we 
met, I remarked about it to poor Paul, and he, for 
once, agreed with me. I remember it because I think 
it was the only time he ever did agree with me. And 
in spite of it all, how well you look I Quite young — 
and one of the very prettiest women I know.” 

Dora tells herself this is not to be believed for a 
moment, but she softens towards her cousin, for all 
that. 

“ And so she has refused to wear mourning of any 
sort?” Mrs. Gilbert goes on after a moment. Well, 
after all I’m not sure that isn’t clever. Certainly it’s 
a touch. To make people talk is so essential now. I 
wonder she didn’t think of white — white only, you 
know — for the year ; or yellow, like the Chinese ; or 
red — who are the people who wear red when their 
270 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

people make themselves scarce ? But really, to re- 
fuse to wear any mourning is perhaps quite as effec- 
tive. So original! Still, if I could see her! — will 
she be down soon ? Ah !” — as the door opens — 

here she is !” 

It is indeed Chloe. 

*‘My dearest, sweetest Chloe!” Mrs. Gilbert is 
rustling towards her, both hands extended. “ Such 
a bless — er — such a sudden affair ! Only heard of it 
late yesterday, and literally rushed to you !” 

'' So good of you,” says Chloe indifferently. She 
is dressed in pale pink crepon, and seems in excellent 
health. Fancy your coming off like that — and with- 
out the invaluable Philips, too ! Why ?” 

“ My dearest ! to see you, of course. I felt that 
under the circumstances — and your being amongst 
strangers ” 

“ Mrs. Fitzgerald is not a stranger,” says Chloe, 
seating herself beside Mrs. Fitzgerald — almost tight 
up to her, indeed — and patting the pretty white hands 
of that charming lady with a gentle and very tender 
air. “I’ve behaved dreadfully to her, but she has 
forgiven me ; and she has been my very best friend. 
She thinks I made a mistake, however.” 

“Ah” — triumphantly — “I told you so. You 
should have divorced him at once. It would have 
made you quite the fashion !” 

“I am sure that Chloe,” Mrs. Fitzgerald breaks 
in indignantly, “ would shrink from such an act as 
that !” 

“I shouldn’t,” returns Chloe tranquilly. “You 
mustn’t idealise me. It wasn’t that at all. It only 
271 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


occurred to me that it would be more amusing for 
him to find me gone when he came back from his 
little trip in Italy. He always hated surprises.” 

“ It was all very wrong, Chloe dear.” 

“ Was it ? Why ? I detested him.” 

“ With reason — and such a successful divorce case 
as it would have been !” declares Mrs. Gilbert regret- 
fully. ** You know I quite thought she would bring 
it, Dora, when I wrote to you. You may remember 
I said she would be her own mistress in six months ; 
that sentence applied as much to her getting rid of 
Burlingham as to her coming in for her own money, 
or his — by his death. By the bye, Chloe, you will 
be twenty-one in November. I do hope you will 
give that old monster, your guardian, his deserts, and 
turn him out of your house. It will be jyc?ur house 
then. And you cannot forget that he sold you — 
positively sold you, my dear — to that reprobate for 
twenty thousand pounds.” 

“You are bitter,” says Chloe, who has, however, 
turned very white. Mrs. Fitzgerald clasps the small 
hand lying in hers with an almost painful grip. Poor, 
child ! 

“ How you always hated him ! But you need not 
have reminded me. I never forget. I have written 
to Mr. Blakeney to say I shall want Brayle on my 
twenty-first birthday. For one thing, I must have it, 
as the Court is no longer mine. Dear old Court ! It 
was the only thing in my short married life that I ever 
loved.” 

“ It goes, of course, to Granby Carlton now?” 

“Yes. Mrs. Fitzgerald,” turning to Dora, “may 
272 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


I stay here with you until Brayle is mine in- 
deed 

“ Of course, Chloe ; of course, my poor child.” It 
is quite plain that Mrs. Fitzgerald has not yet fath- 
omed the fact that Chloe is quite a person in the 
eyes of the world. Not only a Marchioness, but one 
widowed at twenty, and with great wealth. To her 
she is now even more to be pitied than when she 
came to her — a little girl supposed to be running 
away from an unkind guardian. 

Mrs. Gilbert, however, is regarding Dora with 
admiration. “ Good heavens ! If I could only do 
it as well as that,” thinks she, “ I should be a made 
woman for life. Dora might give me lessons. And 
I living down here, too, all her days, in a little forgotten 
village. How does she do it? In my opinion, to 
make a success on any stage, one should breathe, 
from one’s earliest years, the simple country air.” 


CHAPTER XXX. 

“ Humanity is never so beautiful as when praying for forgive- 
ness, or else forgiving another.” 

” Major !” 

Major O’Hara, walking gaily along the road to 
his home, after spending a very happy afternoon 
with his Dora, pauses as the sound of his name 
comes to him. He looks round. Tom Lloyd, with 
a gun over his shoulder and a distinctly embarrassed 
27i 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

expression on his face, is only a few paces be- 
hind. 

“ I — I want to speak to you,” says Tom. 

Certainly, my dear fellow. Anything I can do 
for you ?” 

There is one thing you can do fqr me,” says 
Tom, who is now a dark red. “ If you will — if you 
forgive me^ Major.” 

Oh, come now, Tom ; *pon my word ” It is 

the Major who is embarrassed. 

I’ve behaved like a brute to you,” Tom goes on, 
almost violently. “ When I think of that night when 
I dined with you — and in your own house, too — 
accepting your hospitality ” 

My dear boy — not another word ! Not one, 
now, Tom. Good heavens! as if a fellow can’t 
have a bit of a temper if he likes ; and such provo- 
cation, too I I’ve found it all out by myself, mind 
you, since; not a word from her ; and even then I 
had a suspicion.” 

I wish I had,” says Tom with a groan. This 
kind and perfect gentleman! how he had insulted 
him — not once, but many times ! 

** You have spoken to her?” The Major looks 
full of interest. 

No.” 

“Not yet? Tom, look here; a word of advice. 
I dillied and dallied, like an ass, till I nearly lost 
Dora — your aunt, you know ; and therefore, ‘ quick 
march’ is my motto for the future. Ask her at once, 
Tom.” 

“ I felt I couldn’t until all this was made clear 
274 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


between you and me,” says Tom, whose old cynical 
air has entirely left him. How could he ever have 
felt cynical towards the Major! 

“You’re a good sort, Tom,” says the Major 
gently. “Well, go and tell her now — and tell her 
at the same time that I think she is getting as 
straight and honourable a fellow as the world con- 
tains.” 

“ It would take a hero like you,” says Tom, with 
a flicker of a smile, “ to give voice to such a message 
as that.” He alludes to the Major’s Victoria Cross 
and other small details in the life of as brave a 
soldier as ever lived, and as modest. “ And besides, 
I’m not so sure that she will have me.” 

The Major laughs. 

“I wouldn’t have too many qualms about that 
if I were you,” says he, looking quite a sage about 
the arts of love — he, who had been so nearly un- 
done over his own love affair. “If her heart is 
for any man, it is for you, Tom. I saw that many a 
day ago, but never dreamt that / was the interferer.” 

“You really think ?” 

“ I really do.” It is noticeable that no name has 
been mentioned. Both men seem to understand of 
whom they are speaking. 

“Well, I’ll risk it,” says Tom. “I Do you 

know, Major, I have sometimes thought that if 

But” — with a sudden crash of his hopes again — 
“I’m no better off now, in one sense, than I was 
yesterday. The governor allows me so much a year 
for looking after the estate, as you know. But 

probably he will stop that, if ” 

i8 275 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“You think that girl is mercenary. I don’t/’ says 
the Major. “ Ask her, Tom, and see. As for your 
present income, I spoke to your father yesterday, 
and — well — if she will accept you, your income will 
certainly be continued.” 

A silence, full of eloquence, follows. 

“ He will consent ?” Tom at last speaks ; his voice 
is a little broken. “ It is impossible to thank you,” 

says he. “How am I to do it? But I’m 

sorry from my soul that i ever harboured an uncivil 

thought of you And ” He now has tears 

in his eyes. 

“ Look here,” says the Major, catching him by 
the shoulder and turning him round, “ don’t waste 
your oratory on me. Go straight to the girl you 
love, sir, and tell her what is in your heart. No 
doubt she’s been wondering why you haven’t done it 
long ago.” 

Thus admonished, Tom takes his way to The 
Hermitage, a little unstrung by his interview. If 
only Olivia will listen ! — Olivia, whose name had 
not been mentioned from first to last in his strange 
talk with the kindly Major. Olivia is in the garden, 
as he comes up, watering the flower-beds, and greets 
him with a calm that borders on severity. She 
seems, however, to find herself at a loss for conver- 
sation. Indeed, having said : “ How d’ye do, Tom ?” 
she comes to a standstill. And then, nervously, 
makes the extremely superfluous remark : 

“ I’m watering the flowers.” 

“ So I see,” says Tom, which is, of course, the one 
thing he shouldn’t have said. “ May I help you ?” 

276 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

“ No — no, thank you. And do stand aside a little 
bit, Tom, or you will get wet.” 

“ I have stood aside a long tithe,” says he, with 
meaning not to misunderstood. 

‘‘A long time? Why, you have only just come !” 
says Olivia, but falteringly; and catching his eye, 
she colours violently. 

“ I have wanted to come, however, only — there 
was somebody in the way. He’s gone now, Olivia, 
isn’t he ?” 

‘‘ Someone ?” 

“ Oh, I say,” says Tom, ** you might help a fellow 

out ! I’ve always wanted to ask you to But I 

thought the Major Olivia, as you can’t have 

him, will you — have me 

Olivia looks at him, her pretty face as white as a 
sheet of paper. , 

“You — I ’’she stammers. “You — you don’t 

mean this ?” 

“ You won't have me, then ?” says Tom, whose 
face is now as white as her own, and who, with all a 
true lover’s ignorance, thinks her hesitation a dis- 
missal. 

“ Tom !” 

Does she rush into his arms first, or he into hers ? 
It is a question not yet decided between them. 


277 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

“ Were your inward soul, laid bare, 

What should we discover under 
That seductive mask, I wonder, 

Beauty Clare.” 

It is barely five o’clock, and warm and tranquil, 
on this exquisite August evening. The birds are still 
singing, as though loth to go to rest, and still the 
sun is shining — “ shining with all its might.” Some 
late cocks of hay are being carted across the meadows, 
and here and there a yellowing leaf speaks of dark- 
ness to come, in the dull dreariness of the arriving 
winter; but to-day all is light and brightness. 
Through the tall bracken, now turning from its 
sombre green to a still more sombre brown, the 
twinkling of running rabbits may be seen, and from 
the sedges that surround the pools, now and again 
the rising of a stately heron, 

" Earth putteth on the borrow’d robes of Heaven, 

And sitteth in a sabbath of still rest ; 

And silence swells into a dreamy sound 
That sinks again to silence.” 

Carlton (he is scarcely yet able to think of himself 
as Lord Burlingham), walking slowly through the 
wood that lies between his lodge and The Hermitage, 
is a prey to many, and for the most part very un- 
pleasant, thoughts. 

Since that day when the tidings of her husband’s 
27S 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


death had reached her and she had fainted in his 
arms, he had not seen Chloe. He had called again 
— not once, but many times — ^before his departure for 
town to attend the funeral, but she had — without 
rhyme or reason, as it seemed to him — refused to see 
him. She certainly was not in the slightest grief — 
that he felt sure of. And even if he had a doubt, 
ample opportunities were given him of learning the 
truth. Mrs. Fitzgerald, indeed, when pressed by him, 
had reluctantly confessed that Chloe was “ very much 
the same as usual but Mrs. Gilbert had gone fur- 
ther, and had described Lady Burlingham in glowing 
terms as “ charmingly modern ; and not even a pre- 
tence at desolation ! So unique !’^ 

Yet she had refused to see Mm. She had, indeed, 
refused to see anybody except Major O’Hara — and 
the Castle Lloyd people — a touch that enraged 
Carlton. He, a sort of relation, to be put in the 
background, when she would see the Castle Lloyd 
people. Was there something more than he had 
imagined between her and that fool Laurence ? And 
why would she not see him ? Because he had come 
in for her late husband’s title and estates ? It seemed 
so unworthy of her. And that she should think of 
that confounded young fool ! 

Later on he learnt that there had been a stormy 
scene between Chloe and one of the Castle Lloyd 
people — the one was easily to be guessed — that had 
for its termination the reduction of that household to 
two. It was a stormy scene on one side, certainly. 
Laurence, it seems, had been unpardonably rude to 
Chloe — to Lady Burlingham — had cast all sorts of 
279 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


terrible accusations in her pretty teeth, and had, 
indeed, been so abominably wanting in courtesy of 
any sort as to call her conduct towards him that 
of a heartless coquette ! This she told Cissy after- 
wards, who tried to defend him — to no purpose. 

After that, Laurence had disappeared from the 
neighbourhood — gone to India, said some ; to 
America, others ; to a far worse place, said the rest. 
As a fact he had taken the Major’s advice and Tom’s, 
and sailed for South Africa, with a view to getting up 
to Buluwayo, and seeing life of a stormy kind. 

Will she see him to-day ? Carlton is asking him- 
self this question as he walks towards The Hermi- 
tage. It is quite a month since he left Aughribeg, 
and most of that time had been spent in London, 
with lawyers and notaries and such folk. Quite a 
month! When he left, she had denied him her 
presence. Now 

Now it seems her capricious majesty will be pleased 
to accord him an audience. The trim little maid at 
Mrs. Fitzgerald’s doorway tells him her ladyship has 
given orders that when he comes he is to be ad- 
mitted. “ Evidently,” thinks he, she thought I 
would come.” But this thought only angers him 
— and at once he is ushered into the cool, dim, 
shabby old drawing-room, sweet with its perfumes of 
mignonette and carnations — sweet, too, with its 
memories. 

How long she is in coming ! Perhaps after all she 
has changed that uncertain mind of hers, and will 

not come at all. Perhaps 

280 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


The door is slowly opened — very slowly — certainly 
there is no great rush of cordiality in the. way it is 
opened, and a reluctant — almost offended — if alto- 
gether radiant and slender little figure, “ clad all in 
white,” like spring itself, comes demurely into the 
room. 

I suppose, if I must see you,. I must,” says she, 
most ungraciously, and with a would-be bored air, 
yet with, too, a little glance from: under her long 
lashes, as if to see how he is taking it, that some- 
what belies her cruelty. 

“ I think it would have been much more sensible,’^ 
says Carlton calmly, “ if you had seen me sooner. 
There are many things that must be discussed be- 
tween us. You knew that; and therefore why this 
senseless refusal to see me ?” 

“ Dear me !” murmurs she, with a long and heavy, 
but by no means sorrowful, sigh. “ More scoldings 
— even now^ when I am quite out of your hands ?” 

‘^You are my late cousin’s wife; and being the 
most irresponsible person I ever met in my life, I 
still feel it my duty to look after you,” says Carlton 
with undiminished severity. But to come to busi- 
ness. Where are you going? You can’t stay here 
for ever. And now that the neighbourhood is shorn 
of its chief attraction — I hear he has gone to, South 
Africa — I think you had better go back to your own 
house.” 

'' Well, I am going, when it is empty.” She has 
taken no notice of the chief attraction.” 

“ I’m glad of that. I’ll telegraph, then, to say you 

will be at the Court on — what day ?” 

281 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


“The Court! I was not thinking of the Court. 
My own house I said — Brayle. I have written to 
Mr. Blakeney.” 

“ To your uncle ?’* 

“ My uncle if you will — my enemy beyond doubt. 
He has usurped my kingdom long enough. I am 
now in a position to dictate terms, and — Brayle is 
to be vacant for me next week.” 

“It will be in terrible disrepair, I fancy. You 
know Blakeney ” 

“ Saved every penny he could, and let even the 
roof fall through. I know that, and I don’t care. 
There must be one wing — the western one — that will 
shelter me.” 

“ It would be uncomfortable, however. Why go 
there at all, or” — hastily — “for the present at all 
events ? The Court ” 

“ The Court 1 I shall never enter that house 
again.” 

“ The more fool you 1” equably. 

She turns a very angry face upon him. 

“ Why should I go there ?” 

“ Why not ? It is yours until ” 

“ Until you marry and turn me out. No, thank 
you.” . v 

“When I marry ” He pauses. Then: “I 

don’t see why you and my wife should not live there 
together.” 

“ Oh I your wife !” cries she. “ I can see her — a 
big, tall, puritanical creature, who keeps all the 
Commandments in words and loses them in the 
spirit — especially the Ninth. A creature with a long 
282 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


red nose and chronic indigestion — but immensely 
discreet. A woman whom all respect, whom all 
abhor, and who never, never flirts !” 

‘‘That last certainly” — quite unmoved — “I hope 
for.” 

“ Do you know why ?” glancing at him. “ Be- 
cause you know she will never have the chance.” 

“I’m not so sure of that. But” — slowly — “I 

sincerely hope not.” 

Chloe breaks into a little irrepressible laugh, that 
certainly has something of malice in it. 

“ I’d give sixpence if she did !” says she, “ if only 
to see your face when your puritanical miss — or is it 
missis ? — betrays herself” 

“ Why do you talk like that ?” with sudden 
anger. 

“ I don’t see why, really,” relapsing into a dismal 
air. “I don’t see why I should talk about your 
possible wife at all, when my own affairs are at such 
sixes and sevens.” 

“ You need scarcely take that tone,” with a touch 
of annoyance. “ There are very few people in the 
world so rich as you are.” 

“So rich, yes. And — so poor,” gloomily. “You 
see, I have my drawbacks.” 

“ Drawbacks ! Name one^ 

“ One ! ” with an annihilating glance at him. “ As 
if you didn’t know the very principal one !” 

“ I don’t, indeed.” 

“ How can you pretend like that, Granby ? Right 
well you know what I am now.” Here she covers 
her eyes with her hands. 

283 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


Good heavens ! what, Chloe ?” 

“ A Dowager !” whispers she, in the voice of one 
in extremis. 


CHAPTER XXXIL 

« Time shall die, and love shall be 
Lord, as time was, over death.” 


This astounding grievance gives Carlton pause. 

“ Not necessarily,” says he at last, very coldly, but 
with a quick glance at her. “ There is a way out of 
even that hideous situation.” 

*‘If there is” — shrugging her shoulders discon- 
tentedly — ‘‘ I don’t know it.” 

‘‘Think.” 

“ Oh, think, think — ^you are always telling me to 
think! As if I ever thought! Thoughts mean 
wrinkles. And even if I did think, what would it all 
amount to ? Even if I married anybody, I shall still 
be the Dowager. Hateful word !” 

“ If you married anybody — yes. But ” 

“But what? What are you hesitating about? 
Go on, Granby, can’t you ? Speak ! If there is one 
thing on earth I hate — and you know it — it is being 
kept waiting. Tell me your ‘ but’ at once.” 

“ Shall I ?” He hesitates a moment. “ Well, you 
might marry me / ” 

She stares at him. Her lovely eyes expand. 
Granby ! — who has always scolded, despised, scorned 
her ! 


284 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

“You?” She takes a step towards him, as if to 
more closely examine his features — to make more 
sure of whether he has, or has not, gone suddenly 
mad. 

“Even I!” Granby looks back at her, a little 
paler, perhaps, but unmoved. 

“ Oh, Granby, what nonsense !” 

“ What is nonsense ?” 

“ Do you mean to say you think you are — in love 
— with me ? ” 

“ I don’t mean to say anything,” says he deliber- 
ately. “ I would only suggest to you that you can 
escape the obloquy of Dowagerhood by marrying 
me. 

“ Thank you very much,” says she. “ I should 
not like to put you to so much inconvenience.” 

“ It would not inconvenience me at all, I assure 
you. Will you” — in a low tone — “try to believe 
that I really am in love with you ?” 

Her charming face is now a picture of amazement. 

“ Good gracious, Gigi ! Are you in your right 
mind ? What can you mean by this ?” 

“ Exactly what I say. You may not be prepared 
to give your answer now. I know only too well that 
you do not care for me. But I can wait — and in the 
meantime will you think of it ?” 

“ Oh, think of it !” with a shrug. “ I don’t believe 
a word about your being in love — with me^ at all 

events. I expect you care as little for me as ” 

She does not finish the obvious sentence. “Why, 
you know very well, Granby” — with a sharp gesture 
of her hands— “ that you entirely disapprove of me. 

285 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


That’s the proper expression, isn’t it ?” with a bril- 
liantly saucy glance. 

“ Even if I did” — stolidly^** that would have noth- 
ing in the world to do with it.” 

To do with what ?” 

“ The fact that I am in love with you.” 

You still persist in that pretty fiction?” 

“ It is not fiction.” 

No ?” A frown of perplexity settles on her brow. 
She pauses. 

“ What are you thinking of now ?” asks he. 

“ Of why you want to marry me.” 

“ I have told you.” 

” Yes, I know. It’s very rude of me, Gigi, but I 
really don’t believe you. I don’t indeed. You have 
always been so — so cross to me.” 

** Have I ?” A sudden rush of colour dyes his 
face — that should have warned her of the storm of 
passion within him. Even that has nothing to do 
with it.” 

“ Oh, hasn’t it ? Oh, I see I” 

** What do you see ?” with suppressed vehemence. 

** That to be thoroughly in love one must begin 
by thoroughly disapproving of the beloved object. 
My dear Gigi” — airily — “you have got a bilious 
attack, or a touch of gout, or something. Go away 
and take some waters, and come back sane, and 
marry a woman you do approve of — a woman who 
is not already sick of marriage. Go and marry 
Cissy, for example. The most censorious could 
approve of her.” 

“ Unfortunately, I don’t admire Miss Cissy.” 

286 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

“No?” indignantly. “Just shews your want of 
taste. Why, I think her one of the prettiest girls I 
ever saw in my life.” 

“ I prefer to marry the prettiest girl I ever saw in 
my life.” 

“ Oh !” She shrugs her shoulders, whilst a little 
unwilling smile parts her lips; and then, naively: 
“ I’m not a girl ; I’m only an old, married widow.” 

At this, in spite of himself, Burlingham laughs 
aloud. 

“Old, or married, or widow,” declares he, very 
quietly, restraining himself to the last, though the 
extreme pallor of his face somewhat betrays him, 
“ I am at your feet.” 

“ Hardly.” 

“ Do you want me to kneel to you ? I would if I 

thought Well, Chloe, how is it to be? Will 

you — or will you not ?” 

She has turned aside, and now begins to finger 
nervously the cord of the window-blind. 

“ I am afraid it must be ‘ not.’ ” 

“ Your last word ?” 

Something in his tone may have caught her, for 
she turns. 

“ Not by many, I hope ! Do you want me to die 
and be buried, just because I won’t marry you? 
What awful vengeance ! I’m not like you, Gigi ; I 
bear no grudge. I am very sorry I can’t accept your 
proposal, because, you see” — maliciously — “ I don't 
disapprove of you.” 

“ That’s something gained,” says Burlingham 
calmly. But all at once this calm deserts him, and 
287 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


he strides across the room, and, taking the window- 
cord with which she has been trifling from her 
fingers, says coldly : 

“ It is that fellow Lloyd, I suppose ?” 

“ Nonsense ! How stupid you are, Granby ! Why, 
he has gone !” 

“ To return ?” . 

“ No, no. He” — she breaks into a slight, but 
evidently irrepressible, burst of laughter — he, like 
you, disapproves of me. He ” — still laughing — 
“with a vengeance! I’m not such a Circe, after 
all, as you imagined me, am I ? The moment he 
found out that I was not the little persecuted 
maiden of the Dark Ages he had believed in, he 
laid down ” 

“ His heart ?” 

“ Not a bit of it ! That he has carried safely off 
to South Africa. But it seems he could not forgive 
the fact that I was Lady Burlingham.” 

“ Faint heart ! Idiot ! Well, he being so far out 
of the way, will you not ” 

“Think of you?” She looks steadily at him. 
“ Granby, tell me what you mean.” 

“ Can’t you believe ? Have you never seen ?'* He 
has thrown off all restraint now. His voice is 
passionate, almost rough. “ I love you. For God’s 
sake, Chloe, put an end to this thing, one way or 
the other.” 

“You have said that before.” Her face has grown 
as white as a Niphetos rose. “ You to love me ! 
Oh, no, Gigi !” 

“ Believe me or not, as you will” — he has caught 
288 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 

her hands and drawn her towards him — **but — 
marry me.” 

“ I can’t,” cries she in a little troubled way that 
goes to his very heart. “ I should be afraid. I have 
been so unhappy. But, Gigi, if I don’t marry you, 
I — I shan’t marry anyone else, anyway.” 

“ That won’t do,” steadily. I shall not let you 
treat me as you have treated others. You shall 
either swear here to-day — this very hour — this 
moment — to marry me, or — let me go.” 

His grasp has tightened upon hers, and something 
in his tone, masterful as that grasp, has angered 
her. 

“ Then go !” she cries. 

He holds her all the more firmly, his eyes resting 
upon hers, compelling, controlling. 

You don’t mean that.” His voice is low. 

She hesitates ; then all at once gives in. 

“No, I don’t!” she cries, with a vehement burst 
of wrath. “ But I hate you for making me say it ! 
Oh, how horrid you are, Gigi !” 

“ I don’t care how horrid I am, if you will only 
love me.” 

“ That’s nothing — nothing at all I” stamping her 
foot. “ And I’ll pay you out for this some day — 
mind that !” 

“A near day, I trust,” laughing. “It will be a 
delightful experience, let me tell you. Very few of 
my friends ever pay me anything. And you are my 
friend, Chloe; my friend!'' All at once passion 
breaks through his marvellous reserve, and catching 
her in his arms he strains her to him. “ My darling! 

289 


THE COMING OF CHLOE 


My beloved! My own, own Chloe! Tell me — tell 
me, Chloe, that you are at least — my friend.” 

He had expected a repulse, I think ; but, to his 
everlasting amazement and delight, he feels her 
slender hands steal round his neck, and sees the dear 
capricious face grow white, whilst the dark blue eyes 
lose their mocking light in a drowning rush of tears. 

“ Oh, Gigi I why did you not say all this before ?” 

** What time had I ?” drawing the pretty clinging 
arms still closer. 

“ Ah, not now — not during these past months — 
but before my marriage.” 

** I would to God I had,” says he with emotion. 

But how could I dare think then that you cared 
for me ? And — Blakeney had affianced you to — 
him. And besides — ^you remember how you treated 
me.” 

''Ah, yes. But” — with a sigh and a little half- 
malicious smile — " that was because I loved you.” 

" Loved me ! Loved me then f” 

" Yes, indeed. Even then !” 


THE END. 


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